Author: Momo Chan

The argument with my childhood sweetheart ended with the sharp crack of his hand against my face, in front of everyone. That day, I deleted him from my life. Every contact, every connection, gone. No one could believe it. Aiden and I had grown up together. I’d been in love with him, trailing after him like a shadow for nine years straight. “Why, Zoe? Was it really just because of that one slap?” he asked, his voice hollow with confusion. “Yes,” I said, my own voice heavy with a certainty that felt like stone. “Because of that one slap.” 1. When Aiden’s palm connected with my cheek, for a split second, my brain refused to process what had happened. A dull smack echoed in the sudden silence of the classroom. I stumbled back a step, my head swimming, a sharp ringing in my ears. The spot on my left cheek bloomed with a hot flush, then began to burn like fire. I cupped my face, staring at him in a daze. My Aiden. My childhood sweetheart had just, in the middle of an argument I was having with the new transfer student, publicly slapped me. He seemed to freeze for a moment, the realization of his own action flickering across his face. But the shock was quickly swallowed by a wave of anger and impatience. “Can you just stop causing a scene, Zoe? Go back to your seat!” A few snickers broke the tension in the classroom. Most people just watched silently, eyes wide, taking in the free drama. Vanessa, the transfer student, stood beside Aiden, casually twirling a lock of her perfect chestnut hair. She clicked her tongue. “Oh, Aiden, what did you do that for? Can’t you see your little princess is about to cry?” Her words only fueled his anger. His voice dropped, turning icy. “If you’re going to cry, Zoe, do it at home. This is a school, not a stage for your little princess act.” A toxic cocktail of humiliation, grief, and rage churned inside me. Fat, hot tears finally broke free, spilling down my face. As the laughter of the boys in the class rose around me, I turned and bolted from the room. I didn’t know where I was going. I just knew I couldn’t stay for the next class, couldn’t bear to face any of them for another second. Aiden had always been impatient with me, that was nothing new. But for him to hit me… that was a first. More than that. In all my life, no one had ever laid a hand on me like that. 2. Aiden and I were the textbook definition of childhood sweethearts. We’d known each other since we were three. Our parents were best friends, our apartments right across the hall from each other. And I had loved him for as long as I could remember. In elementary school, I was an easy target for the boys. One was particularly relentless—he’d pull my hair from the seat behind me, stick gum on my chair, and once even set off a tiny firecracker in my desk. I cried to the teacher, and she’d give him a talking-to, but then she’d turn to me with a smile and say, “Oh, he only does that because he likes you.” I didn’t believe it. The boy never stopped, so I went home and told my parents. They were furious, ready to march down to the school and have a word with that teacher. Aiden’s dad, who happened to be visiting, overheard. He called Aiden over and told him it was his job to protect me at school from then on. We were the same age but in different classes. The very next day, during recess, Aiden stormed into my classroom, dragged the boy out into the hall, and laid into him. He’d always been tall for his age, with a fierce streak, and he left that kid and his friends whimpering. Before he left, he shot a warning glare at the other boys. “Anyone messes with Zoe again, you’ll answer to me!” That was the moment. That was when my crush solidified into something unshakable. From then on, I became his little shadow, sticking to his side wherever he went. Aiden hated it at first. He had this whole macho complex and thought hanging out with a “girly-girl” like me wasn’t cool. But I was persistent, trailing behind him, calling his name. After a few years, he softened. The annoyance melted away. I started to notice things—the way his eyes would linger on me a little too long, the way he’d get flustered if our gazes met, his cheeks flushing as he’d stammer and change the subject. One evening, his dad joked, “Since the kids are so close, why don’t we just promise them to each other?” Aiden didn’t say a word, but his hand found mine and squeezed tight. I saw his ears turn bright red. A sweet warmth spread through my chest, and I declared loudly, “Yes! I’m going to marry Aiden!” But when high school started, everything changed. At the end of our first semester of freshman year, we got a new transfer student. Her name was Vanessa. The rumor was her parents’ work had brought her here. She had great grades and a face that was more than pretty—it was stunning. On her first day, she walked in with a cascade of chestnut curls and told the teacher with a cheeky grin, “It’s natural, I swear. The color and the curls.” Then she scanned the room. Her eyes landed on me, paused, and she let out a loud, incredulous laugh. “Oh my God… seriously… are we looking at a real-life Barbie Princess? Ha! Everything’s pink! We’re in high school, honey, are you trying to be cute? It’s a little… cringe.” Every head in the class swiveled to look at me. My face burned. I loved pink. It was my color. Pink backpack, pink tumbler, pink hair clips, pink sweaters, pink phone case. Even my keychains were pink. It wasn’t the first time I’d been teased for it. In grade school, boys called me cutesy or prissy; some girls said I was trying too hard. But most people were kind. More often, girls would tell me I looked adorable, that pink suited me perfectly. But I had never been mocked so openly, so cruelly, in front of everyone. I felt an overwhelming urge to disappear, to sink right through the floor. “Oops, sorry,” Vanessa said, winking playfully when she saw my expression. “I’m just a little blunt. Don’t get upset, Princess.” “That’s enough. It’s your first day, keep it down,” Aiden’s sharp voice cut in. I turned to see him scowling at Vanessa, his face clouded with annoyance. Vanessa just raised an eyebrow, her gaze locking onto him. “Oh? Has the Princess’s knight in shining armor arrived?” “What are you talking about? Are you crazy?” Aiden shot back, slamming his hand on his desk as he stood up. The teacher quickly reprimanded him and found Vanessa a seat. As if by some cruel twist of fate, the only empty desk in the entire classroom was the one directly in front of Aiden. And just like that, they were neighbors. 3. I don’t know when, exactly, they got close. It was subtle at first. One day, the strawberry milk Aiden’s dad always had him bring me in the morning was replaced with plain milk. “I hate plain milk, you know that,” I said, frowning at the carton in my hand. “Come on, you only like the other one because the box is pink,” he said, ruffling my hair. “You’re too old for strawberry milk anyway. Plain is healthier.” Vanessa, holding an identical carton of plain milk, turned around and gave me a half-apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, Little Miss Pink. I prefer plain, so I asked Aiden to grab this kind.” She took a sip. “Besides, strawberry milk is so sweet, it’s sickening. Do all you girly-girls actually like that stuff?” I set my carton down, my eyes narrowing. “Do you enjoy giving everyone nicknames?” She blinked, feigning surprise and a little hurt. “Wow, don’t take it so seriously. It was just a joke. You’re so sensitive…” “Is it me being sensitive, or is it your guilty conscience talking?” “Alright, Zoe,” Aiden cut in, looking exhausted. “Vanessa… doesn’t always think before she speaks. Don’t take it to heart.” That was it. I was so angry my eyes started to sting. I shoved Aiden, hard, and shot a glare at Vanessa. “If you don’t know how to talk, then don’t talk at all!” Aiden stumbled, surprised, but his arms shot out to steady me. “Okay, okay, my fault,” he said instantly. “Don’t be mad. I’ll bring you strawberry milk tomorrow, alright?” I glanced over his shoulder and saw Vanessa’s face. Her smile was gone, replaced by a cold, hard stare fixed directly on me. 4. After that, it was like a switch had been flipped. Vanessa started targeting me. I’d pull out a pack of pink tissues, and she’d exclaim, “Wow! Even your tissues are pink! Are you trying to turn yourself into a life-sized Barbie doll?” During classroom cleaning, I used a wet wipe to clean the handle of my broom. She’d catch the eye of a few boys and smirk. “Here comes the princess act.” When we had to rearrange desks every two weeks, I paused for a moment to catch my breath. Vanessa’s voice would ring out across the room: “The princess is tired! We need some knights over here to help the princess!” And every single time, the group of boys she hung out with would roar with laughter, egging her on as if it were the funniest show on earth. At first, Aiden would try to intervene. “Hey, cut it out,” he’d mutter. But Vanessa would just wave a dismissive hand. “It’s just a joke! Zoe’s always so uptight. I’m just helping her loosen up and get along with everyone.” Aiden would nod thoughtfully. “Yeah, she can be a bit of a princess. Are all girls like that these days?” Vanessa would playfully punch his shoulder. “Hey! Don’t lump me in with them. I’m not like that at all.” Aiden would just smile. A bitter pang went through me. I’d always known Aiden thought I was a little delicate, a little spoiled. Maybe to most guys, liking pink, having a thing for cleanliness, and not being very strong just screamed “princess syndrome.” Finally, one day, I snapped. Over the summer, my family went on a beach vacation, and I came back with a serious tan. It had happened before; my skin would usually return to its normal shade after a couple of weeks indoors, so I didn’t think much of it. A few days after school started, I wore a pink button-up under my school uniform blazer. Vanessa saw me and her voice shot up, dripping with mock horror. “Oh my God! Zoe, you’re wearing that pink with your skin tone? Don’t you think you look ridiculous?” She doubled over, howling with laughter. “I’m sorry, I can’t—you can’t be a princess anymore! Where are there any tan princesses? You look more like… a stray puppy trying to play dress-up! Hahahahaha!” She and a few boys collapsed into a fit of giggles. I saw Aiden crack a smile, clearly amused. In that moment, a tidal wave of shame and helplessness washed over me. Blood rushed to my head, and my hands clenched into fists. Through the sound of their laughter, I grabbed my water bottle, twisted off the cap, and flung its contents directly into her face. Vanessa gasped, sputtering as she frantically wiped at her drenched face. Her makeup—the eyeliner, the foundation—began to streak. “Cough—what the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?!” “Oh, dear,” I said, mimicking her tone. “Coming to school with a full face of makeup? No wonder you’re not a princess. You’re more like a clown, here to put on a show.” A couple of boys moved to step between us, but Aiden was faster. He snatched the bottle from my hand. “Zoe. Apologize.” He looked down at me, his brow furrowed, his voice cold and hard. My eyes burned. I stared right back at him. “Did you not hear what she called me? She said I looked like a stray puppy.” “That’s a separate issue. You already insulted her back. Now you need to apologize for throwing water on her.” He said it so matter-of-factly. “Admit when you’re wrong. Be good. Stop throwing a tantrum.” “Just apologize,” he pressed on. “Vanessa won’t hold it against you.” A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Go to hell.” Aiden’s eyes widened in shock. Then, his arm swung back, and he slapped me across the face. 5. I didn’t go back to class that day. I went straight home. I tore through my room like a hurricane, pulling books off shelves, yanking clothes from my closet, ransacking storage bins. I found a large cardboard box and started filling it, throwing in every single thing Aiden had ever given me, from childhood trinkets to recent gifts. When the box was overflowing, I made one last sweep to ensure I hadn’t missed anything. Then I hauled it downstairs and dumped the entire collection of our shared history into the communal dumpster. My parents weren’t home yet, so I called my mom. “Hey, sweetie. What’s up?” “Mom,” I said, my voice flat. “When you get home, I need you to go tell Aiden’s parents that he and I are done. And one more thing.” My voice was ice. “From this day forward, Aiden is never, ever to set foot in our house again. Tell him to get lost and stay lost.” When my mom got home, her eyes went wide with a mixture of shock and fury as she saw the red handprint blooming on my cheek. I told her everything that had been happening for the past few months. Listening, I could see a vein throbbing in her temple. Without a word, she spun around and marched across the hall, banging on Aiden’s door. His mom was confused at first, but my mother laid it all out, sparing no detail: how hard Aiden had slapped me, how he’d stood by while the new girl relentlessly bullied me, and how, in the end, he had chosen to stand in front of that girl and defend her. Aiden’s mom’s face cycled through shades of white and green. The friendship our two families had cherished for over a decade was fracturing right before her eyes, because of me. But my own mother didn’t blame me for a second. She just wrapped her arms around me, her voice soft but firm. “No one gets to hurt my Zoe. Whatever you decide to do, your father and I are behind you one hundred percent.” The dam of suppressed hurt and grief finally broke. My nose stung, and I buried my face in her shoulder and sobbed. 6. When Aiden got home that night, he must have seen the discarded contents of the box in the dumpster. He came to our door, his knocking sharp and angry. “Zoe! Come out here! We need to talk.” I opened the door. He stood there, his face a mask of cold fury. “Why did you throw away everything I ever gave you?” “What’s it to you?” I asked, my gaze as cold as his. The mark from the morning’s slap was still vivid on my face. He hadn’t held back. My cheek was swollen and purplish, the outline of his fingers darker now than it had been hours ago. His expression shifted, the anger dissolving as he stared at the bruise. “I… I didn’t realize it was that bad,” he stammered. He reached out to touch my face, but I flinched back, my expression unchanging. I was rarely injured, but in the past, even the smallest scrape would have me running to him with teary eyes, demanding he kiss it better. I was never really afraid of pain; I just liked the excuse to be coddled by the boy I loved. And Aiden, for all his talk about me being delicate and prissy, secretly loved being needed by me. Not anymore. I was done playing that part. He’d never seen me this cold, this distant. He looked at me with disbelief. “I didn’t mean to, Zoe. It’s just… you swore at me, and I got angry…” I cut him off. “Since you’re here, let’s get this straight. From today on, we’re strangers.” “I want you to call me by my full name. If you see me at school, don’t talk to me. And don’t you ever come knocking on my door again.” I started to close the door. He shot his hand out, grabbing my wrist. His eyes bored into mine, his expression morphing from guilt to confused rage. “Is it really that serious, Zoe? If you’re mad about the slap, I’ll apologize. But don’t you think you’re being a little extreme?” He tightened his grip. “Have you thought about what you’ll do when you regret this?” “I won’t regret it.” “Why?” he demanded, his voice strained. “Just because I accidentally slapped you?”

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1 At a company dinner, in front of the entire team, my fiancée’s assistant nonchalantly dropped a piece of eggplant he’d just bitten into right into her bowl. Without a second thought, Ava picked it up with her chopsticks and ate it. The moment we got home, I told her I was calling off our engagement. She pinched the bridge of her nose, annoyed. “Because I ate the eggplant he gave me?” “It was the eggplant he’d already taken a bite of,” I corrected her. “Jeffrey, honestly, calling you insecure isn’t an exaggeration. You blow every little thing out of proportion.” She scoffed. “Fine. You want to break up? Go ahead. Just don’t come crawling back to me when you regret it.” She was so sure that I loved her, that I could never leave her. But she didn’t understand that even the deepest love can be eroded by a thousand cuts. This time, I was really leaving. … I told my parents I wanted to change our families’ arrangement that very night. They were surprised, but they respected my decision. After that, Ava and I fell into our usual cold war. She blocked my number, unfriended me on all social platforms, and removed me from her gaming friends list—her standard operating procedure after every fight. She was confident I couldn’t bear to lose her, that I would eventually swallow my pride and come back to her, begging. But this time, as my cursor hovered over the ‘Send Friend Request’ button, I didn’t click it. A week later, a notification popped up in the company group chat. “Today is Ms. Willow’s birthday. She’s treating everyone to dinner tonight. Attendance is mandatory, no exceptions.” Not wanting to make things awkward for everyone else, I went. When I entered the private room, the first thing I saw was Ava in the seat of honor, with Liam pressed up right beside her. His lips were practically touching her ear as he whispered something to her. They were in their own bubble, a world no one else could enter. A moment later, they both burst out laughing, their faces so close they nearly kissed. I couldn’t watch anymore and found a seat in a quiet corner. People started presenting their gifts to Ava. I ignored it all, pouring myself drink after drink. But soon, a shadow fell over me. I looked up into Ava’s beautiful, impatient face. “Jeffrey, where’s my present?” In the past, I would have started planning for her birthday months in advance. The most memorable one, I spent over six months building her a perfect, to-scale replica of the house from her favorite movie, Up. When the balloons lifted it into the air, she’d said we would be just like the main characters, together until the very end. I believed her then. I never imagined her promise wouldn’t even last three years. Faced with her demanding question, I just said flatly, “I forgot.” My indifference clearly infuriated her. She lost all patience. “Jeffrey, are you done with this tantrum?” “Is this little incident really worth a week of sulking?” I looked at the smudge of her lipstick near Liam’s ear and felt a wave of nausea, like I’d swallowed a fly. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. And I was serious about calling off the engagement.” Her expression froze for a second, but she regained her composure when Liam took her hand. “Jeffrey, please don’t misunderstand,” Liam said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “I only gave the food to Ava because I didn’t want to waste it. If you hate me that much, I… I just won’t eat at the table next time. I can eat leftovers when everyone’s done.” His words immediately sent Ava into a protective frenzy. “Liam, don’t say things like that! You deserve the best in the world. The one who shouldn’t be here is Jeffrey. Who does he think he is? Does everyone have to cater to his whims?” “Ava, don’t say that,” Liam cooed. “Jeffrey might be a little sensitive, but he’s still your fiancé. You have to be patient with him. I really don’t want you two to fight because of me.” “Patient with him? Who does he think he is? If my parents hadn’t begged me to go through with this engagement, I would never have gotten involved with him. He’s always getting upset over nothing. He’s not a real man at all.” Liam walked over to me and patted my shoulder, his tone patronizing. “Jeffrey, man to man, you’re being a bit dramatic this time. Ava’s been so upset she can’t even sleep. I know you two aren’t the most compatible, but you have a family arrangement to think of. You should both just take a step back.” I slapped his hand away. “You know what I admire most about you, Liam?” I sneered. “Your ability to play the victim. The way you can steal someone’s girlfriend with your two-faced act and not even blink.” Liam’s smug expression faltered. Ava exploded. “Jeffrey, who gave you the right to slander Liam?” “Slander? Then tell me, why does he have a matching version of everything you buy for me, which he then flaunts at the office? Why is it that every time we fight, he’s the one spreading a twisted version of the story in the breakroom? And how does he know about the mole on your—” “Enough!” A sharp crack echoed through the room. Ava had slapped me, hard, in front of everyone. The world went muffled for a moment, but my vision was crystal clear. I could see the pity, the scorn, the contempt on the faces of my colleagues. As the ringing in my ears subsided, I heard Ava’s loud declaration. “From now on, everyone is welcome to like the photos of me and Liam together. When we hit one thousand likes, I’m dumping Jeffrey and marrying Liam.” With that, she grabbed Liam’s hand and stormed out. Just before the door closed, he shot me a triumphant, mocking smirk. After they left, the room started to empty. Someone snickered. “He pushed his luck without having the capital to back it up. I bet he regrets it now.” A kinder colleague offered some advice. “Pride is worthless, man. Just apologize. Otherwise, she’s really going to marry that guy.” I knew this was just her way of forcing me to apologize. But this time, I couldn’t bow my head. Not even if it killed me. Soon, the once-boisterous room was empty except for me. I picked up a bottle of hard liquor and downed it. The alcohol burned its way down to my stomach, and the sting brought tears to my eyes. A decades-long relationship was ending, just like that. Maybe an engagement a thousand miles away in Crestwood would finally get her off my back. I didn’t know why, but my face was wet with tears again. Back home, I started packing. Ava and I were childhood sweethearts. We’d spent more than half our lives together. The ties were so deep, there was too much to sort through. This little red flower—the first prize she ever won in kindergarten. She’d run over to me on her chubby little legs and given it to me. I vaguely remembered her saying, “I want to give my Jeffrey all the best things.” This photo—a secret shot I took of her blushing face when she got her first period. She hadn’t paid attention in health class and thought she had a terminal illness. She’d run to me, telling me to take care of myself for the rest of my life, that I could get a new girlfriend, but not one prettier than her. I was completely bewildered until I realized what was happening. I ran to the store to buy her pads and we looked up how to use them online together. I teased her for not listening in class, and she bit my arm in embarrassment. It didn’t hurt. It just made my heart itch. Later, we got together. Different universities forced us into a long-distance relationship. Our memories from that time were a stack of train tickets. Four years. One hundred and twenty thousand miles we traveled to be with each other. Back then, her world revolved around me. She never once complained about the long journeys. My fingers brushed against a small, hard box. Inside were the rings we had made together. For her, I came back to this northern city right after graduation. The day I got back, she dragged me to a workshop to forge these rings. I still remember her words as she slipped mine onto my finger: “Jeffrey, with this ring, I’ve got you for life. You can never, ever leave me.” Neither of us ever thought she would be the one to let go. Liam’s interview for the company had been a disaster. Ava had found him completely unimpressive, and I hadn’t given the underqualified candidate a second thought. But somehow, he was hired. He went from being an invisible nobody to Ava’s executive assistant. The first real red flag was when the matching ring, the one that was supposed to be ours, appeared on Liam’s hand. At first, Ava would patiently explain and comfort me when I questioned it. But soon, her patience wore thin and was replaced by annoyance. My repeated willingness to forgive, to compromise, to please her, only made her more brazen in her favoritism toward him. Company dinners now featured only Liam’s favorite dishes. He worked half a day a week, spending the rest of his time with Ava, while I was saddled with his assistant duties. She talked about him more and more, first with unconscious praise, then by comparing me to him, complaining that I wasn’t as romantic or as sweet-talking as he was. It came to a head during an afternoon tea break. Ava mentioned how much she liked her milk tea. Liam said he wanted to try it, and without a word, she handed it to him. He drank from her straw, his lips touching the mark of her lipstick. Then she took it back and continued drinking as if nothing had happened. In that instant, a vise gripped my heart, sharp and painful. After that, his transgressions became more frequent. He’d go with her for facials and help apply her lotion. When she sprained her ankle, he swept her into his arms and ran to the nurse’s office, even though I, her actual boyfriend, was standing right there. She even canceled the birthday celebration she’d promised me because Liam came down with a cold. Every time I expressed my unhappiness, she would snap, “Jeffrey, you have such a dirty mind. Liam and I have a purely platonic friendship. Stop projecting your filthy thoughts onto him.” But as time went on, even she said it with less and less conviction. The final straw came during a major industry event. The invitation specified bringing a partner. Ava never even told me about it. She took Liam instead. I only found out after several people asked me if we had broken up. When I confronted her, she was angrier than I was. “I was just helping Liam network! It’s for the good of the company! Why are you being so petty?” We didn’t speak for a long time after that. So long that I thought we were really over. Until she sent a late-night text: “Babe, my stomach hurts.” All my carefully constructed defenses crumbled in an instant. And so the toxic cycle began again: I would confront her, she would get angry, I would appease her, and she would forgive me. I closed the ring box and threw it in the trash. In the back of a drawer was a handwritten apology note from when we were eighteen. She’d written it because she’d missed one of my texts. She cared so much back then. Now, the only person she cared about was Liam. I took out the letter, tore it into tiny pieces, and let them fall into the trash. With decades of memories cleared out, the house felt empty. My heart felt empty, too. The company chat was still buzzing with photos of Liam celebrating Ava’s birthday, making her laugh. Knowing where her favoritism lay, my colleagues were all too happy to validate them. “OMG, Ava and Liam are so perfect together.” “Find a guy like Liam, not a petty, moody one like Jeffrey.” “Jeffrey only has his family to lean on. Liam got to where he is all by himself. There’s no comparison.” I couldn’t look anymore. I called my lawyer and told him to pull all of my investments from Willow Corp. The next day, I went to the office to clear out my things. I found Liam in my private lounge, wearing shorts with his feet propped up on my desk. His belongings were scattered everywhere, and all of my things had been thrown outside the door. This was the lounge Ava had designed specifically for me. Everyone in the company knew it was my sanctuary. No one else dared to set foot inside. This was him, shamelessly taking a dump on my head. I didn’t bother arguing. I just called the police. At the station, Liam started to panic. “I was just getting some documents for Ava. Do you really need to call the cops over this?” “That is my private space. Did I give you permission to enter?” I said coldly. “Entering without permission is called trespassing. Taking things is called stealing.” He didn’t argue. Instead, his eyes filled with tears. I had a bad feeling. Sure enough, I turned around and saw Ava standing there, her face a thundercloud. “Ava,” Liam whimpered, throwing himself into her arms. “I was just trying to get your files, but Jeffrey seems to hate me. He’s accusing me of being a thief. The villa you gave me is already overflowing with your gifts. Why would I want any of his shabby things?” This little room was Ava’s gift to me, a private haven. It was a reciprocal gift for the wooden cabin I had built for her. We had so many sweet memories here. I thought this, at least, would be our last untouched piece of sacred ground, the final shred of dignity for our love. But Ava was determined to shatter even that last illusion. She comforted Liam while explaining to the officer, “It’s all a misunderstanding. We all know each other. Sorry for the trouble.” Then she turned to me, her voice dripping with disgust. “What have you become, Jeffrey? A jealous shrew? Does it make you feel powerful to abuse your authority and hurt an innocent subordinate like Liam? You’ve disappointed me so much.” The accusations rained down on me. Before I could even respond, Liam started his performance again. “Ava, don’t blame Jeffrey. It was my fault for being careless. I can spend a few days in jail, I don’t mind being laughed at. Just don’t let me come between you two.” Ava squeezed his hand, her face full of adoration. “Liam, you’re just too gentle. That’s why people always take advantage of you.” She glared at me. “Jeffrey, I’m telling you, this isn’t over. Apologize to Liam. Now.” “He entered my private space without permission, and you want me to apologize to him? You think he’s the victim here?” At my words, Liam started sobbing again. Ava sneered. “Your private space? That lounge is Willow Corp’s property. And in case you forgot, the entire company is in my name. You just have temporary access. And if you keep this up, I don’t mind filing a complaint against you for false accusation.” With that, she took Liam and sorted out the issue with the police. Her words were like daggers to my heart. A heart I thought was already dead began to ache again. All these years, I had poured everything into building up her company, thinking I was working for our future together. In the end, all I got was: you just have temporary access. Before leaving, Ava shot me a warning. “Just so you know, the like count is at 990. If you don’t change your attitude, I’m really going to marry Liam.” I looked at Liam’s contemptuous smirk from behind her and suddenly saw how pathetic I’d been. His schemes were always clumsy. A smart woman like Ava couldn’t have missed them. She had simply chosen to ignore them. The scales of her affection had tipped long ago. This was all just an elaborate way to get rid of me, the clingy boyfriend she was tired of. And I had been the fool, begging for reconciliation time and time again. With that realization, the last embers of my love for Ava died out completely.

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The knock came at 3 AM. A frantic, desperate sound that sliced through the dead of night. It was Liam, the widower next door. He said his kid was burning up and asked if we had any fever medicine. My wife, Jennifer, a doctor whose shifts blurred day into night, had just fallen asleep after a marathon day at the hospital. Without a second thought, she was up and out the door. Half an hour later, she slipped back in. “Poor Liam,” she murmured, shrugging off her coat. “It’s so hard for him, raising a kid alone. The fever’s finally breaking, thank God.” When I didn’t respond, she sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion. “I know you get tense when I’m around other men, but this was life or death. It’s my duty as a doctor.” Normally, I would have nodded, played the understanding husband. But not tonight. My voice was calm, dangerously so. “I want a divorce.” 1 Jennifer’s hands froze mid-motion, her face a mask of fatigue. But she recovered quickly, closing the distance between us and melting into my arms. “A little jealous, are we?” she cooed, her voice a practiced balm. “My mind is completely full with my work and with you. There’s no room for anyone else.” Her tone was sincere, laced with a familiar, weary patience. “You can be mad at me, Noah, but you can’t say things that hurt like that. You know that, right?” She sounded like she was calming a difficult child. There was a time I found that captivating. Tonight, a wave of revulsion washed over me. I pushed her away. “I’m not being difficult.” My voice was flat. “I’m serious. I want a divorce.” Her eyes locked on mine, a retort forming on her lips before dissolving into another sigh. The silence in the living room was suffocating, broken only by the sound of our breathing. Finally, she broke the stillness, taking my hand in hers, her thumb tracing circles on my skin. “Noah, I admit I’ve been distant lately, but it’s just work. I’ve been so busy. And I didn’t forget your birthday, I swear. The gift is already on its way.” She squeezed my hand. “Once this crazy period is over, I’ll take you on that trip we talked about, just the two of us. Okay? You know I was on my feet for almost twenty hours today. Come on, honey. Don’t do this…” Her eyes were bloodshot—partly from exhaustion, partly, I was sure, from the sting of my words. She was making perfect sense. Pushing this any further would make me look like an ungrateful monster. But I pulled my hand away, a bitter sneer twisting my lips. “Jennifer, I said I want a divorce. Are you deaf?” My words hung in the air, sharp and ugly. “Monday morning. Be ready. I’ve already contacted a lawyer.” Before I could finish, a flush of crimson crept up her neck. With a frustrated cry, she threw her coat to the floor. It knocked over a crystal vase on the entryway table, sending it crashing to the tile in a shower of glittering shards. Just like our marriage. The violent sound seemed to jolt her back to reality. Her anger receded, replaced by a flicker of despair. Still, she persisted, her voice softening. “Noah, this isn’t you. Even if you meant it, you’d at least have a reason, wouldn’t you?” Her voice cracked. “It can’t be because I gave Liam the Tylenol, can it? A child’s fever can be fatal. I’m a doctor. I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.” Her words struck a nerve, a raw, exposed thing inside me. My body tensed, and my hands clenched into fists at my sides. “You’re right. That’s exactly why.” My voice was laced with a venom I didn’t know I possessed. “A man and a woman, alone in a room in the middle of the night. The thought of it makes me sick.” I spat the words out, my eyes narrowed with a hatred so potent it was as if I’d seen them in bed together with my own eyes. The shouting had roused the neighbors. And Liam, of course, was among them. He appeared at our open door, looking utterly lost, before dropping to his knees in front of me. “Noah, man, please don’t misunderstand. Did my asking for medicine cause this?” he pleaded, his voice trembling. “There’s nothing going on between me and Jennifer. It was just so late, I couldn’t get a cab, and I knew she was a doctor… I figured you’d have something to bring the fever down…” Two other neighbors crowded around, piecing together the drama. Their judgment was swift and merciless, all of it aimed at me. “Look at him. So handsome on the outside, but what an ugly soul.” “She’s a doctor, for God’s sake! It’s her job to help people. What kind of petty, insecure man gets jealous over that?” “Dr. Anderson married him? What terrible luck. She must have been cursed.” The chorus of condemnation washed over me. I hung my head, a cold, bitter laugh echoing in the silent chambers of my heart. 2 The crowd grew, the noise escalating until someone called building security. People began to disperse. Jennifer grabbed my wrist, her grip like steel, and dragged me back inside. She wasn’t giving up. “Noah, you were just saying that to get a rise out of me, right? It was a joke?” she pressed, her eyes searching mine for a flicker of the man she knew. “I’ve given medicine to neighbors before. You never cared. I don’t believe you’d—” Her voice was becoming a grating buzz in my ears. I cut her off. Not with words, but with my hand. The sharp crack of my palm against her cheek echoed in the sudden silence. “If your brain isn’t working, go get it checked,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “But stop your damn whining in my house.” I turned away. “Monday. Be ready. Don’t make this uglier than it has to be.” Without another glance, I slammed the bedroom door shut. It was the first time I had ever been so completely, utterly cold to her. Even her legendary patience had its limits. I heard a vicious thud as her foot connected with the door. “Noah, this is insane! You have to stop this!” she screamed through the wood. “I am not agreeing to a divorce. Not now, not ever. So don’t even think about it!” The front door slammed shut, the sound rattling the apartment. But inside me, there was only a profound calm. An unprecedented sense of release. Is it finally ending? I didn’t waste any time. I packed a bag with my essentials and got on my laptop, finding a lawyer and initiating the divorce proceedings online. Sleep never came. As dawn broke, the apartment was empty. Jennifer was gone, but on the coffee table sat a bouquet of roses. It was her peace offering. For years, whenever we fought, she’d buy me flowers. That night, she’d cook my favorite meal, and we’d fall back into our rhythm, the argument forgotten. It was our unspoken ritual of reconciliation. But not this time. This time, there was no going back. I picked up the exquisitely wrapped bouquet. There were supposed to be nine roses, but I counted only eight. I knew exactly where the ninth one had gone. After tossing them in the trash, I headed for the door, only to trip on something lumpy under the rug. I bent down and picked it up. It was a new, unreleased Rolex. A buddy of mine who worked at a high-end boutique had told me about this model just last week. I hadn’t worn a watch in years. My job didn’t allow for it. But I remembered something. Liam loved watches. … My phone buzzed, shattering the quiet. It was one of Jennifer’s colleagues from the hospital. “Noah, you need to get down to the hospital, now,” she said, her voice strained with panic. “Jennifer… she’s had a severe allergic reaction to something. We need a family member to sign off on the procedure.” Her parents lived hours away. There was no time. I drove, my hands steady on the wheel. When I arrived, the scene was chaotic. Her friends and colleagues surrounded me, their faces a mixture of fear and anger. In front of them all, I laid out my terms. “I’ll sign,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “As soon as she signs the divorce papers.” The room erupted. A close friend of ours lunged at me, his face contorted with rage. “You son of a bitch! Have you lost your mind?” “She was only testing that new drug so she could get a few extra days off to spend with you!” another colleague yelled. “And this is how you repay her? Demanding a divorce while she’s lying in a hospital bed? Are you even human?” “We heard what happened last night,” someone else added, her voice dripping with contempt. “She did the right thing. That child could have died. How could you be so cruel?” From the hospital bed, Jennifer looked at me, her eyes wide with a despair that should have broken my heart. “Noah… please,” she whispered, her voice raspy. “I don’t want a divorce. I’ll be better. I’ll pay more attention to you. Please, just… stop this.” She reached a trembling hand toward me, tears tracing paths down her pale cheeks. It was a picture of pure, heart-wrenching devotion. Anyone else would have melted. I remained perfectly still, my expression unreadable. “Sign the divorce papers and the asset division agreement,” I repeated, my voice like ice, “and I’ll sign the surgical consent form.” The room exploded in a fresh wave of fury. “You’re a monster! All you care about is the money!” “I can’t believe this. They should be saving you, you bastard!” Through the storm of insults, another sound reached my ears. A small, almost imperceptible noise from the other side of the room. Ignoring the chaos around me, I strode forward, every eye in the room following my path. With one swift, decisive motion, I ripped back the privacy curtain separating the beds. 3 Liam froze, caught completely off guard. He fumbled with a cup of water, sending it spilling across the bedside table. He scrambled for an excuse, his eyes darting between me and the crowd. “Noah, don’t get the wrong idea,” he stammered. “After the fever broke last night, I was still worried, so I brought him back to the hospital for a check-up.” He gestured vaguely around the room. “The ER is swamped, you know? They’re doubling up patients, just putting dividers between the beds. I had no idea we’d be in the same room as Jennifer.” He looked at me, his face a mask of earnest concern. “I know you don’t like me. I’ll have a nurse move us as soon as he wakes up. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you two.” He was playing his part perfectly. On the other bed, his young son was sleeping, cheeks flushed. Liam looked like a terrified, devoted father, trying to placate a madman. Before I could say a word, Jennifer spoke up, her voice ringing with false magnanimity. “Liam, don’t be ridiculous. The boy is sick. You don’t need to move. If your conscience is clear, there’s nothing to fear. We have nothing to hide.” Suddenly, the whole charade felt pathetic. The torrent of words I had prepared died in my throat. A cold, mirthless smile touched my lips. “You’re right,” I said, my voice dripping with scorn. “There’s nothing to hide.” I turned my gaze back to her, letting the full weight of my disgust show. “I just find you filthy. And I want a divorce.” The color drained from Jennifer’s face. She stared at me, her expression crumbling from disbelief to horror. “Noah, how long are you going to keep this up over one stupid incident?” she pleaded, her voice rising. “All I did was give a sick child a box of Tylenol!” She was truly furious now, her control snapping. “Just because you can’t have children of your own, does that mean you have to hate everyone else’s?” The words hit the air like a physical blow. A collective gasp went through the room. One of her friends, who knew our history, grabbed her arm. “Jennifer, that’s too far! What are you saying?” She finally seemed to realize what she’d done. Her eyes widened, and she looked at my hands, which were now trembling uncontrollably. Regret flooded her face. “Noah… I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring that up…” Five years ago, a simple mistake during surgery cost Jennifer a premature infant’s life. The grieving father, mad with pain, stormed the hospital with a knife. I was there, bringing her lunch. In the chaos, as he lunged, she yanked me in front of her. A shield. The fifty-centimeter blade tore through my abdomen. It severed more than just flesh and muscle. It took from me the possibility of ever having a child of my own. After that, Jennifer had knelt by my hospital bed for days, slapping her own face until it was bruised, her voice raw from screaming apologies. “It’s all my fault, Noah, I’m a monster, how could I…” she’d wept. “I swear, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you. We don’t need children. I only need you.” Looking at her now, it was all a bitter joke. My silence terrified her. Ripping the IV from her arm, she stumbled out of bed and collapsed at my feet, her body shaking. “Noah… I was just angry, I didn’t mean it…” she sobbed, grabbing at my pants. “Please, don’t divorce me. I can’t imagine my life without you. There would be no point.” For a fleeting second, the scene felt identical to the one five years ago. The only thing that had changed was me. My face was a mask of ice. I kicked her, hard, in the chest. “Get off me.” My voice was low and menacing. “And don’t you ever call me that again. It makes my skin crawl.” “Sign the papers, or don’t. I don’t care. There are a thousand ways I can ruin your life. Go on. Test me.” With that, I turned and walked out of the room, leaving a stunned silence in my wake. Halfway down the hall, I stripped off the jacket she had touched and threw it in a biohazard bin. As I exited the hospital, a voice called my name. “Noah!” I turned. It was Leo, a new friend from my building.

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The first time I stayed over at Mishka’s place, I found his stepsister wearing his t-shirt as a nightgown. I told him then and there: that was a line I wouldn’t let anyone cross. To keep the peace, he sent her to study abroad. Five years later, on the eve of our wedding, a drunk Mishka posted a cryptic message to his social media. The tragedy is, all your regrets are tied to me. It was there for only a few seconds before it vanished. I stared at the empty space on my screen for a long moment, then opened the county clerk’s website and canceled our marriage license appointment. If his heart wasn’t in it, then I didn’t want the man, either. … 1 At 3 AM, Mishka sobered up. Babe, love you. I was wide awake when his text came through. Someone once said the difference between “I love you” and “love you” isn’t the “I.” It’s the difference between a sincere confession and a hollow habit. Maybe, for Mishka, being with me was just that. A habit. I tossed my phone aside and acted as if nothing had happened. I went through with the wedding the next day. Not because I had any hope left, but because I wanted to see, with my own eyes, what was really going on in his head. He was on one knee before me, the three-carat diamond on the ring he held out so brilliant it made the world go hazy. Then, a sharp, commanding voice cut through the air. “Mishka Thorne, you are not allowed to get married!” He didn’t seem surprised. Just… tired. He let out a weary sigh. Isabelle Vance stood at the edge of the manicured lawn, a vision in a scarlet dress, the hem billowing in the breeze. All eyes were on her. “Isabelle, don’t make a scene,” Mishka said, his brow furrowed. As he spoke, his hand, which had been holding mine, slipped away. “This is the most important day of my life. This isn’t one of our childhood games.” “The necklace you gave me for my 18th birthday,” she declared, her voice ringing with drama. “You said if I ever brought it to you, you’d grant me any request, no matter what.” “My request is this: leave her. And come with me.” She ripped the necklace from her throat and threw it onto the grass at his feet. Mishka scrambled to pick it up. As his fingers closed around the pendant, his face darkened. “Do you really have to do this?” From the crowd of guests, Mishka’s father shot to his feet, his face purple with rage. “This is absurd! Mishka, Isabelle, whatever this is, you can settle it at home! Officiant, continue the ceremony!” But Mishka just stood there, clutching the necklace, before pocketing it. He looked at his father and mumbled a quiet, “I’m sorry.” A wave of shocked murmurs swept through the guests. “What is happening? Is he actually leaving?” “Ugh, blended families are always a mess. Those two have been at each other’s throats since they were kids. But Isabelle is being completely out of line, deliberately ruining her brother’s wedding.” “That poor bride. How humiliating. I can’t even imagine.” Mishka turned to me, his eyes swimming with guilt. “Laila, forgive me. I swear, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll give you an even grander wedding.” “Mishka.” My voice was quiet, but it carried, and the entire venue fell silent. “I don’t want ‘later.’ I want today. If you walk away now, we’re over.” He stared at me, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, a pained expression on his face. When he opened them, all he could offer were two gut-wrenching words. “I’m sorry.” Isabelle let out a short, triumphant laugh. “Don’t be too sad, Laila. I was just doing you a favor, helping you see the kind of man you were about to marry.” Her voice dripped with mock pity. “See? You don’t mean that much to him after all. So easy to cast aside.” “Shut up!” Mishka roared, spinning on her. “I agreed to go with you. Stop hurting her.” Isabelle just sniffed, turned on her heel, and stalked away. Mishka followed her without a single glance back. “You ungrateful son!” His father’s furious shout was followed by the sound of a champagne bottle shattering against the stone path. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I stood on that stage, a brittle smile plastered on my face, and addressed our guests. “Well, you’re all here. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves.” I played the gracious host, as if I weren’t the one who had just been publicly abandoned at the altar. But inside, my heart was a ruin. 2 Once the guests were seated, I finally escaped to the dressing room. I pulled off my veil, then reached for my earrings, but my hands were shaking too violently. “Here, sweetie. Let me.” My mother had followed me in without me noticing. She gently unfastened the diamond studs and then began to remove my makeup with a soft cloth. “Oh, my child,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been through so much.” I noticed new streaks of silver in her hair. They blurred before my eyes, the white strands bleeding into an encroaching darkness until my world went completely black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. A doctor was speaking, his mouth moving, but it took a long moment for the sound to register. “She’s fine. Just exhaustion and extreme stress. But you’ll need to focus on her nutrition from now on. After all, she’s eating for two now.” A cold dread washed over me. My hand instinctively clenched the bedsheet. The child Mishka had wanted for so long… had decided to arrive now. Of all times. I met my mother’s gaze. Her eyes were filled with a profound, aching pity. “Laila, don’t overthink things. Just rest. You need to take care of yourself.” I pushed myself up into a sitting position. “Where’s Mishka?” My mom hesitated. “His phone’s going straight to voicemail. His family is out looking for him.” My father stood by the window, his face a mask of cold fury, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white. A titan of the business world, a man respected throughout the city, he had never suffered such a public humiliation. My heart ached for him. Suddenly, my phone rang, Mishka’s name lighting up the screen. My mother shot me a look, then gently pulled my father out of the room. I answered. “Laila, what happened today was all my fault,” he began, his voice earnest. “Blame me, hate me, do whatever you need to do. But please, don’t take it out on Isabelle, okay?” His voice was a knife in my chest, stealing my breath. He wasn’t worried about how I was, how much pain I was in. He didn’t care about the catastrophic mess he’d left me to clean up. His first thought, his first concern, was protecting Isabelle. My lips moved, but all I could manage was a weak, hollow, “Okay.” “She’s had a hard time abroad,” he continued, oblivious. “She’s angry with me, and she has every right to be. I owe her so much.” He sounded anxious now. “Laila, just give me some time. I’ll sort this out, I swear. And then, I’ll give you the wedding you deserve. A real one. Okay?” It wasn’t the wedding I couldn’t wait for. It was the way he’d left, so decisively, as if I meant nothing at all. A single hot tear slid down my cheek. “Mishka,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Are you… are you hiding something from me?” Silence. A sob caught in my throat. “Have your feelings for me changed?” “What? No, of course not!” he said, a little too quickly. “Laila, don’t think like that. Please, just trust me.” His hesitation had already told me everything. I ended the call without another word. A few days ago, I’d overheard one of Mishka’s friends ask him, “Did you know Isabelle is coming back? You don’t think she’s going to try and crash the wedding, do you?” Mishka had been so sure of himself then. “I would never let Laila get hurt.” I had trusted him. I believed he would handle it. I had never imagined I could lose so completely. A few minutes later, a message came through from Mishka’s assistant. Ms. Reed, Mr. Thorne would like to transfer ownership of his art gallery in Florence to your name. Please let me know when you would be available to sign the contract. A wave of desolation washed over me. Was this it? Was he trying to buy his way out of his guilt? That night, a video arrived from Isabelle. My curiosity got the better of me. I opened it. In the murky light of a dive bar, Mishka was slumped over a table, completely wasted. Isabelle pushed a bottle of red wine in front of him. “If you want my forgiveness,” her voice purred, “get on your knees and drink this whole bottle.” Mishka staggered to his feet and then collapsed onto his knees before her, slurring, “My fault… Forgive me, Izzy…” He fumbled for the bottle, his hands grasping at empty air. Isabelle snatched the bottle, grabbed his chin with one hand, and brutally forced the neck of the bottle into his mouth, pouring the wine down his throat. Dark red liquid streamed from the corners of his mouth, staining his shirt, his neck. He choked, sputtering, and fell to the floor in a fit of violent coughing. I closed the video, my hand trembling. A new message popped up. See? He’s like a pathetic little dog on a leash for me. The phone slipped from my grasp and hit the floor. The screen spiderwebbed with cracks. To earn her forgiveness, he would sacrifice his last shred of dignity. I didn’t sleep all night. Five years of memories played on a loop in my mind. Embracing under a shower of cherry blossoms, him whispering he wished that moment could last forever. The first snow of the year, him changing his flight to come home early, a steaming pot of hot pot waiting for me the moment I walked in the door. All those beautiful moments, now just shattered fragments of a life that was no longer mine. The next morning, the wedding planner called. “Ms. Reed? Just confirming the details. Mr. Thorne booked our videographer and makeup artist for your marriage license appointment next Wednesday morning. Is that correct?” I stared out the window, my voice flat. “I’m sorry. That won’t be necessary.” “Oh,” she said, confused. “But Mr. Thorne just made the booking yesterday…” “It’s been canceled.” I couldn’t understand him. He was groveling at Isabelle’s feet, yet he was still planning to marry me. What did he think I was? A convenient cover? A bandage for his reputation? I was just leaving the hospital wing when I ran straight into him in the emergency room lobby. His clothes were disheveled, and a dark, dried patch of blood stained his cuff. A thick gauze bandage was wrapped around his forearm. His eyes, when they met mine, were hard. “What are you, a bloodhound? How did you track me here so fast? This has nothing to do with you. Stay out of it.” I took a deep breath. “I’m not here for you.” A flicker of panic crossed his face, and he moved to block my path. “Don’t you dare go near Isabelle. Me getting hurt has nothing to do with her.” Isabelle, who was standing behind him without a scratch on her, folded her arms with a smirk. “That’s right. It has nothing to do with me. He’s the one who started it.” Two police officers motioned for them to follow, and Mishka trudged after them, his head down. As Isabelle passed me, she leaned in, her voice a triumphant whisper. “He’d die for me. Would he do that for you?” My body went rigid, as if I’d been nailed to the floor. Isabelle’s smirk widened into a grin. They hadn’t gone far when my phone shrieked. It was someone from Mishka’s company PR department, her voice an octave higher with panic. “Ms. Reed, there’s a video of Mr. Thorne beating up Ethan Cole going viral, and I can’t reach him…” “Ethan Cole?” “Yes. Isabelle’s ex-boyfriend. The one she dated for years while she was abroad.” The ground seemed to tilt beneath my feet. Mishka was always so calm, so controlled. Now he was getting into brawls over her, like a jealous teenager. So, he could be reckless. He could throw everything away. Just not for me. “Ms. Reed? What should we do? We’re in the middle of a critical negotiation. Any bad press right now could be disastrous…” A roaring filled my ears. “If you can’t reach Mishka, call his father. Someone from the Thorne family needs to handle this.” I hung up, the buzzing in my head threatening to swallow me whole. I turned around, walked back into the hospital, and went straight to the obstetrics and gynecology department to schedule a medical abortion.

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Martin Lewis, Manhattan’s crown prince, got rejected by Seraphina Vance for the ninety-ninth time. He turned and shoved a bouquet of blood-red roses—and his unlimited black card—into my hands. I was digging through a dumpster for food. Helicopters swarmed overhead, showering petals. He pinned me against the wall, his breath hot on my cheek. “Hey, little stray,” he growled. “Care to be my princess?” I saw Seraphina’s icy smirk. Broke and near dropout, I took the deal. My life became a whirlwind of champagne, tutors, and reckless spending. I burned his money like there was no tomorrow. On my eighteenth birthday, his fingers traced my collarbone. “Let’s make a video,” he whispered, “to commemorate our first time.” I knew then: this was the endgame. Seraphina’s mother was my father’s discarded mistress. Her revenge was to see me ruined. But I just smiled and waved my plane ticket and Harvard acceptance letter. “Your bed is soft, Martin, and your card’s limit is high.” My smile widened. “Too bad they can’t contain my future. Bye!” 1 “Miss Monroe, your visa application was successful. You can pick it up in seven days.” I hung up the phone just as Seraphina’s cloying, high-pitched laughter floated in from the living room. Inside the sprawling villa, the party was in full swing. Seraphina, hooking her strawberry-print panties with two fingers, spun around and playfully tucked them into Martin’s hand. “A little reward for you, baby.” She leaned in, her breath hot against his ear. “And if you get that video of Mia, the next reward… will be me.” A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. He tilted her chin up, his voice a gravelly, decadent purr. “Don’t worry, babe. I throw a little cash her way, and the little stray actually thinks I love her. She’s already agreed to give herself to me on her eighteenth birthday.” “Her eighteenth? That’s tomorrow!” Seraphina’s eyes lit up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a loud, wet kiss on his lips. “Just make sure you don’t get your hands dirty for real. I don’t want you after she’s touched you.” He let out a low chuckle, his hand roaming wickedly over the small of her back. His grin was lazy, dangerous. “By the time I’m done with her, she won’t just make a video. I could tell her to strip naked and crawl down Fifth Avenue, and she’d do it without a second thought.” The room erupted in jeers and laughter. “I thought she was the type to dig through trash rather than sell out? Guess everyone has a price!” “The pure, innocent Mia Monroe turning into a slut? Now that’s gonna be some explosive content!” I stood just outside the door, a faint, placid smile on my face. What would a bunch of trust-fund kids, who’d never known a day of hunger, understand about true desperation? I knew what it was like to scavenge for food in dumpsters, to sleep under bridges, to drink filthy water from park sprinklers. I’d licked the last crumbs from the paper bags of stale bread the bakeries threw out. I was twelve when I did those things. Now, I was eighteen. And I swiped Martin’s no-limit black card without batting an eye. Dignity? What’s the market price on that? The laughter inside continued. Someone’s voice cut through the noise, teasing Seraphina. “Sera, you sure about pushing Martin onto Mia like this? What if he actually falls for her?” Martin grabbed a silk pillow and tossed it at the speaker, a smirk on his face. “My eyes are only on Sera. Got it?” Honestly, I couldn’t care less who Martin loved. I only cared about his money. The funny thing is, my family was rich. Very rich. My mother was a high-stakes lawyer with a crippling gambling addiction. My father was a renowned tycoon with a wandering eye. And trapped between them was me, a girl who sometimes couldn’t even afford a box of tampons. Neither of them cared about me. I was just a bargaining chip in their miserable marriage. If it weren’t for Martin, I would have already rotted away in that swamp of a home. And I had Seraphina to thank for all of it. Her hatred for me was so potent, so all-consuming, that she couldn’t wait to shove Martin into my life, just so she could be the one to orchestrate my destruction. 2 When I was twelve, my mother lost two million dollars at a poker table. She smashed the piggy bank where I’d saved up my school fees and threatened me not to tell my father. Her only form of apology was using my own money to buy me some greasy fried chicken from a street cart. As we stood there, surrounded by the stench of old oil, we saw him. My father, his arm wrapped around his mistress as they walked out of a designer boutique. Trailing behind them, clutching a shopping bag, was their illegitimate daughter: Seraphina. That night, my mother forced a bottle of drain cleaner down my throat, screaming at my father over the phone that if he didn’t break it off with that woman, she’d kill me. The chemical burn was a bitter agony. The glare of the surgical lights made me wish for death. It took three full-body blood transfusions to save my life. And that’s what it took to get my father to promise to come home, to patch together the hollow shell of our family. Seraphina hated me. She hated that I hadn’t died. Hated that my survival had led to her mother being abandoned. Hated the stain of being an illegitimate child. She wanted to destroy me with her own two hands. The truth is, I was there for every one of Martin’s over-the-top, school-wide declarations of love for her. He was handsome, magnetic, and obscenely rich. Money was just a game to him. Seraphina basked in his attention, reveling in the feeling of finally having something over me. And so, she always kept him at arm’s length, never saying yes. There was a time when I was sick with jealousy. I hated that I wasn’t the one being showered with roses and money. I hated being trapped in poverty, struggling to escape a swamp that only pulled me deeper. So one day, I posted a cryptic message online: “Being abandoned is the original sin. There’s no washing it away.” That was all it took. Seraphina couldn’t stand it. When Martin landed a helicopter on the academy’s football field, unleashing a rain of petals, I knew the show was about to begin. “Hey, little stray,” he’d said with that devilish grin, holding out his hand. “Care to be my princess?” He was offering to pull me straight to hell. That same night, Seraphina posted on the school’s forum: “So-called ‘pure and innocent girl.’ Turns out her price was just a little high.” She was right. I wanted money. Lots and lots of it. Enough to weave into a pair of wings that could carry me out of this godforsaken life. My parents always told me it was my fault they couldn’t get a divorce. But they were the sinners, and I was the one with the life sentence. My father would come home drunk, a storm of rage, beating me until my head was bleeding before he’d finally pass out in his room. My mother, after her gambling binges, would tear the house apart looking for money. She once spent an hour on her hands and knees, digging a single quarter out from under my bed. Leftovers, garbage, and endless beatings. I was done. Every time I got my report card back, I’d stare at the perfect red ‘A’ and imagine it turning into a pair of wings, flying me far away from my twisted, suffocating family. On my desk was a tattered romance novel I’d read a hundred times, where a prince lavished a broken girl with untold riches. I used to fantasize about that. That a prince would appear for me, too, throwing money at my problems and lifting me out of the dirt. I never would have crossed paths with someone like Martin Lewis on my own. But then Seraphina used herself as bait, sharpening Martin into the perfect weapon to use against me. He stepped right out of the pages of my book: from a powerful family, worth billions, handsome as a fallen angel, with a crowd of admirers wherever he went. Most importantly, he threw money around like it was nothing. That was enough. I just needed another two hundred thousand dollars. Enough to get out of the country and start over. 3 Choosing my moment, I pushed the door open, feigning ignorance as I held up a bottle of tequila. “Got the booze.” Seraphina slowly, deliberately, slid off Martin’s lap, giving him a look freighted with meaning. The man lazily crossed his long legs and patted the empty space beside him. “Come here.” I had just settled obediently beside him when Seraphina lunged, snatching the diamond bracelet from my wrist. “This is pretty. Must have been expensive.” “It was. A gift from Martin.” Someone in the room snorted. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the freebie that came with the necklace Sera’s wearing.” The room filled with mocking laughter. They’d been building up to this moment all night, waiting for me to finally crack. But I didn’t. I met their gazes coolly. “Freebie or not, it’s from Martin. So I’ll treasure it.” I saw Martin’s hand, the one holding his cigarette, freeze for a fraction of a second. A flicker of something dark and unreadable crossed his eyes. That was exactly the reaction I wanted. I knew where his soft spots were. I knew which buttons to push. The truth was, I’d already found a buyer for the bracelet. It would fetch six thousand dollars—enough to cover two months of living expenses once I was gone. Humiliation like this? I hoped they’d give me more. Someone was about to pile on with another jab, but Martin cut them off, his voice cold. “The drinks are here. Let’s play a game.” Truth or Dare. I lost the first round. Seraphina held up her phone, ready to document my every humiliation. “Truth: Have you and Martin slept together?” I picked up my shot glass and downed it in one go. I chose dare. Second round. I lost again. Seraphina smirked. “Truth: Do you love Martin, or his money?” I drank again. With everyone ganging up on me, I lost the third round, too. I can hold my liquor, but after the third shot, it was time for my performance. I had to be drunk, and I had to end up in Martin’s arms. Like I said, I knew exactly how to play him. So when I swayed, mumbling, and collapsed against him, I felt his arm tighten around me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Fourth round. Seraphina was relentless, her phone still pointed at me. “Mia. Truth: Do you think you’re a vain, gold-digging bitch?” I reached for another shot, but a hand clamped down on my wrist. Martin’s. His lips were pressed into a thin, hard line. “That’s enough for tonight.” Later, in the bathroom. Martin pinned me against the tiled wall, his body a furnace against mine, his breath scorching my skin. “Why didn’t you answer her questions?” I lifted my eyes, making them wide and wet, and stared into the bottomless depths of his. Perfect. When a player starts asking why, it means he’s already caught feelings. He just doesn’t know it yet. I bit my lip and said nothing, my silence a weapon. Finally, he dipped his head, his lips brushing against my collarbone. “Sera was out of line tonight,” he rasped. “I’ll make it up to you.” A notification pinged on my phone. A wire transfer. One hundred thousand dollars. Before I left the bathroom, I deliberately messed up my clothes, pulling my collar askew. Seraphina was waiting right outside the door, her face a mask of fury. She mouthed a silent message to Martin. Don’t you forget our deal. As the party wound down and the clock struck midnight, Martin’s patience finally snapped. He pushed me back onto the sofa, his mouth crashing down on my neck in a feverish kiss that sent shivers down my spine. “Darling,” he whispered against my skin. “Time to hold up your end of the bargain.” He swept me into his arms and carried me toward the bedroom. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne, a hazy, intimate fog. His shirt was half-open, revealing a hard, muscular chest that radiated an almost dangerous heat. As if to punish me for my earlier silence, his kiss was bruising, savage, not letting up until the coppery taste of blood bloomed in my mouth. I glanced at the headboard and saw his phone, propped up and already recording. I allowed his hand to slip under the hem of my dress. I knew it was time for my next move. 4 Just as his fingers brushed against the last button of my blouse, I timed it perfectly, pushing him away. I reached into my bag and pulled out a small, hand-carved wooden sculpture. It depicted a mother and child, clinging to one another. The craftsmanship was amateurish. But it was a perfect replica of the one raw nerve he had left. Just as I’d predicted, lust gave way to a cold, terrifying rage. His eyes locked onto the sculpture, his face turning into a dark, thunderous mask. “When I was… helping you tidy up once, I saw a broken sculpture you’d wrapped up so carefully. I thought it must be important to you, so I tried to carve a new one…” Before I could finish, his hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my throat in a vice grip. “Who told you you could touch my things?” As the world began to blur and my lungs burned for air, a strange sense of relief washed over me. A guy like him had a thousand ways to destroy me. I could escape this time, but not the next. But what if I could become the very thing he couldn’t bear to break? The original sculpture had been a birthday gift from his mother. The last gift she ever gave him before she clutched it to her chest and jumped from the roof of their penthouse. It shattered when she hit the ground. She must have been in so much pain. And so was he. I didn’t struggle. I just looked at him, forcing the words from my constricted throat. “I’m… sorry… I couldn’t make you happy.” His eyes widened, a flicker of shock in their depths. The pressure on my neck instantly loosened. As air rushed back into my lungs, I knew the fish had taken the bait. I watched him. He held the sculpture aloft, his hand trembling as if he were about to smash it to pieces, but in the end, he couldn’t. I had won. I let my hand fall to my side, casually revealing the patchwork of faint scars and fresh cuts on my skin. All deliberately inflicted while I carved his gift. When his gaze fell upon my hand, his whole body went rigid. His lips started to tremble. With a roar of frustration, he kicked over a nearby table, sending his phone clattering to the floor. “Are we… still doing this?” I asked softly. His face was a storm cloud. He grabbed his jacket, wrapped it tightly around me, and snatched his phone off the floor. He thumbed the screen for a moment. Another bank alert. Another hundred thousand dollars. “That’s for your trouble,” he bit out, his voice raw. “I don’t owe anyone anything.” When he left, he took the sculpture with him. I knew then. His heart was in chaos. After graduation, I sold off all the jewelry and designer bags he’d ever given me. I had more than enough money for my escape. I had played my part. He had fallen for it. It was time to end the game. And this time, I was the one holding the controller. 5 The next day, Martin threw a massive birthday party for me, inviting our entire graduating class. His original plan had been simple: to project my sex tape onto a giant screen for everyone to see, a final, brutal act of revenge on Seraphina’s behalf. The atmosphere should have been cold, humiliating. But today, the venue was filled with my favorite flowers—Ecuadorian roses—and a cake he’d baked himself. Seraphina stared at these small, thoughtful details, her face twisting with suspicion. She pulled him aside. “Did you do it with her?” “No,” Martin said, his gaze fixed on the floor. Seraphina visibly relaxed, a cruel smile returning to her lips. “Then you have the video? Well, what are you waiting for? Play it! You’re killing me with the suspense!” Silence. A heavy, dead silence. The afternoon sun sliced across his aristocratic features, casting half of him in light, the other in shadow. I stood a few feet away, dipping my finger into the cake’s frosting. Mm. Sweet. Ignoring the escalating argument nearby, I poured myself a glass of champagne. And downed it in one go. In my peripheral vision, I saw Seraphina shove Martin in a fit of rage. But I was the one who fell. A strange, numbing tingle shot up from the pit of my stomach. That’s when I realized. Oh, hell. The champagne was drugged. The floor rushed up to meet me, and I collapsed onto the cold, hard marble. “You bitch,” Seraphina’s voice was a triumphant hiss as she stalked toward me. She gestured to a group of leering guys. “I have plenty of ways to deal with you.” “Have your fun,” she sneered. “Just make sure you film it.” Through a thick, disorienting haze, I heard Martin’s furious roar. “This wasn’t the plan!” “The plan?” Seraphina laughed, a shrill, ugly sound. “Martin Lewis, don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for her.” “I… no.” “Good. Then tell me right now. Her or me? Who do you choose?”

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I grew up showered with endless affection. My parents deliberately adopted three girls to raise alongside me, intending for me to choose one of them to marry when I came of age. But they treated me with cold indifference, while showering our family driver’s son, Marcus Greene, with warmth and enthusiasm. Until one incident changed everything. Marcus and I were both kidnapped. Fiona Carter led the charge in abandoning me to save Marcus instead. She said, “You were born with a silver spoon. Someone will avenge you. You don’t need us.” Her words cut through me like a knife, and I suddenly realized just how wrong I’d been all these years. After I recovered from my injuries, I went to my father with a decision. “Dad, I’ve decided to marry Vivian White.” “But her face was damaged in the accident. Are you sure you’re not joking?” Hearing Dad’s question, I simply smiled calmly. “I’m not joking.” “I just suddenly realized that I care for her.” “And she’s the one I should marry.” Seeing my determination, Dad let out a gentle sigh. “As long as you’re happy, we support you.” “I thought you were so attached to Fiona and the others that you’d choose one of them.” When Dad mentioned Fiona and the others, a dull pain struck my chest. I couldn’t help but recall the kidnapping from a few days ago—how coldly they abandoned me without a second thought, then blamed me for wandering off with Marcus. Perhaps I should have realized it earlier. Fiona and the others had always favored Marcus. From the moment they first arrived at our home, they always had. Thinking of this, I swallowed the bitterness and nodded. After Dad and Vivian’s family expressed their support for my decision, I left my parents’ house and drove back to my suburban villa. But as soon as I pulled up to the front door, deafening music from inside made me frown. I pushed open the door to find my tasteful decor transformed into a tacky party scene. And the culprits were obviously Fiona, Rachel, and Claire, all surrounding Marcus in the center. “Damien, you’re back.” The sudden voice made Fiona turn her gaze toward me, her eyes full of disgust. “You dare show your face here.” I opened my mouth to speak, but Rachel, standing beside her, cut me off with a cold snort. “Why wouldn’t he dare? Damien’s rich. How could we compare?” “Who knows what he’s been telling Mr. White about how we abandoned him!” Even Claire, who usually stayed quiet, nodded in agreement. The three of them united against me made me bristle with anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “This is my house. Why wouldn’t I come back?” “Besides, I don’t have the time to complain to my father.” Of course, I was also afraid that Dad would get angry enough to damage his health. But my explanation only made them think I was hiding my guilt. “Who knows if you’re telling the truth!” “But now that you’re back, hurry up and apologize to Marcus.” “I didn’t have time to deal with you that day! If you hadn’t dragged Marcus out, how would he have gotten kidnapped?” Rachel spoke first, with the other two nodding in agreement. But Marcus had been the one who asked me to go out that day. How did it become my idea? I tried to defend myself. “That day, Marcus was the one who—” Before I could finish, Marcus, who’d been playing invisible until now, dropped to his knees with a thud, tears flowing instantly. “Damien! Please don’t blame Fiona and the others. They’re just worried about me.” “It’s all my fault. I was the one who asked you to go out that day. It’s all my fault, boo hoo…” His words immediately filled their eyes with sympathy, while their gazes toward me grew colder. “Damien, if you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop targeting Marcus behind everyone’s back!” “I’m ordering you to apologize right now! Otherwise, none of us will forgive you!” Fiona glared at me coldly as she issued her ultimatum. I felt my breath catch, my mind flashing back to the humiliation they’d put me through on my coming-of-age ceremony. The banquet had been filled with important guests. Marcus was supposed to help me get dressed, but just before the event started, he came crying that he’d ruined my outfit. I lost my temper and yelled at him. Then he suddenly collapsed on the floor, tearing at his clothes frantically. “Damien, I’m sorry! Don’t do this to me!” Then Fiona and the others walked in. Without asking a single question, they forced me to apologize. They even brought me an ill-fitting outfit to wear, making me look like a complete fool. When Dad asked about it later, I said I’d suddenly wanted to wear it, afraid they’d get in trouble. Looking back now, I’d been such an idiot! But now? I wasn’t going to indulge them anymore. I raised my head, my eyes fierce as I looked at the three of them and refused loudly, “I won’t apologize!”

“You won’t apologize?” “That’s not your choice to make!” “Someone grab Damien!” Seeing my refusal, Fiona sneered and ordered the security guards nearby, “Hold him down!” The guards stepped forward and forcibly restrained me. I’d almost forgotten—these past few years, I’d shown such dependence on the three of them that everyone secretly believed the White family fortune would belong to them. They’d long since stopped respecting me. A chill ran through my heart as I looked at the three of them with increasingly cold eyes. “What’s with that look? Apologize!” “Listen, Damien, don’t think we won’t do anything just because you’re a White.” “You’re going to need the three of us in the future!” Rachel shot me a glance and spoke mockingly. She looked absolutely disgusting. Who the hell made them think this way? I couldn’t understand it. I tried to struggle free, but the grip on me only tightened. They didn’t release me until I was forced to bow my head to Marcus in apology. “Today’s just a little punishment.” “Behave yourself, or you’ll regret it!” After issuing their threat, Fiona and the others left with Marcus, surrounding him like he was royalty. I collapsed on the floor, watching clearly as Marcus shot me a provocative look. I clenched my fists in rage. Just then, my phone rang. It was Vivian calling. I answered, forcing myself to calm down. “What is it?” “Nothing much. Just reminding you not to forget to select the wedding venue and pick out your suit.” Her low voice sounded in my ear, making me momentarily dazed. By the time I snapped back to reality, she’d already hung up. That woman was quick! I had no choice but to pick myself up, quickly clean up, and head out. I went to redesign the wedding venue I’d originally prepared for the three of them. I just didn’t expect them to be shameless enough to rush over after being notified.

“Damien, you’re really shameless! That desperate to get married? We just punished you and you’re already here setting up the venue!” Rachel looked at me with disgust. The others wore matching expressions. I tried to be patient and explain, but before I could open my mouth, Fiona ordered the security guards who’d followed them to tear everything down. “Throw out all these disgusting flowers!” “Replace everything with white roses—Marcus’s favorite.” “Damien, even if you get married, the wedding has to be what Marcus likes. You owe him this.” As her words fell, the flower arch I’d just had set up was kicked over. I couldn’t react in time, still trying to figure out what I supposedly owed Marcus. “Fiona! I’m not marrying any of you three. You have no right to destroy my venue!” “Not us three? That’s hilarious. Everyone in our circle knows how obsessed you are with us!” “Obviously it’s—” Before I could finish, a loud crash came from behind me. I turned to see the guards had already smashed the area where I planned to display our wedding photos. Others followed suit, destroying other parts of the venue. In the blink of an eye, half the wedding venue was ruined. “Stop! What right do you have to destroy my wedding venue? Who gave you permission!” “Stop right now!” But they ignored me, their actions not slowing at all. I shouted until my voice was hoarse, but couldn’t stop them. I watched helplessly as my carefully arranged venue turned into a complete mess. And the perpetrators stood before me, nodding with satisfaction. “Much better! Good riddance to all that eyesore.” “Let’s go! We still need to take Marcus to the bakery!” Rachel smirked and left with the group. Leaving me standing there alone. It took me a while to collect myself and stand up. I didn’t have time to settle scores with them. Right now, the most important thing was to redesign the wedding venue and select the suits. Nothing else mattered. As for those three, I’d already made a mental note of everything. Once the dust settled, I’d make them pay. By the time I finished redesigning the wedding venue, two days had passed. My wedding with Vivian was drawing closer. I couldn’t control my excitement, and even wore a smile I hadn’t had in days when I went out to try on suits. But when I arrived, I found Fiona, Rachel, Claire, and Marcus already there. The four of them acted as if I didn’t exist, intimately clinging to each other. And Marcus was wearing my carefully selected custom suit—the one my father had given me as a coming-of-age gift. Italian handmade, priceless. Fiona, standing at the edge, noticed me first and scolded impatiently. “What are you doing here? Did you have someone tip you off again?” “You really can’t live without us, can you? And you say you’re not trying to marry us—this suit is the one we all picked out together back then!” “Marcus wants to take photos with us and doesn’t have a proper suit, so we’re letting him borrow yours.” “Consider it a chance to make amends.” She stopped paying attention to me and joined Rachel and Claire in complimenting Marcus. Every word implicitly belittling me. “Our Marcus looks so good in it. So much better than certain people with evil hearts!” “Such a shame. If we didn’t have to have someone get married, I’d want the four of us to stay together forever.” Rachel couldn’t help but sigh, prompting Marcus to comfort them. “It’s okay, Rachel. No matter who marries whom, the four of us will always be family.” I trembled with rage and said through gritted teeth, “You like Marcus so much that you’ll steal people’s clothes for him to wear?” “Fine! I’ll make sure people see just how shameless you are!” I raised my phone to photograph them. Seeing this, Fiona furiously ordered people to drag me away. “She’s crazy, the crazy woman! Get her out of here!” Then I was thrown outside, forced to watch helplessly as my precious suit stayed on Marcus’s body. And I was powerless to stop it.

I stood outside the boutique for a full hour, watching them take group photos with Marcus in formal wear. Then they did a painting-themed photoshoot, getting paint all over the suit. With each stain, I regretted my past blindness more and more. After they finished, they threw the ruined suit at me. “Pick another one yourself. Oh, and the photos will feature the four of us.” Rachel said provocatively in my ear. But I couldn’t hear anything. My mind kept repeating one sentence. The suit was ruined. I returned to my parents’ house in a daze and lay down, unable to hold back my tears. Knock knock. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Mom holding a box, looking mysteriously pleased as she handed it to me. “What’s this?” “Open it and see.” Following Mom’s suggestion, I opened the box to find a suit. Mom smiled beside me. “You don’t know—Vivian had someone deliver this. She’s so thoughtful.” “And she designed it herself!” Hearing this, my heart started pounding. I suddenly felt that my decision to marry her was the right one. I took out the suit and tried it on. It fit perfectly. I could even imagine what Vivian and I would look like standing together. This woman… she was pretty good. I smiled and sent her a selfie. Soon I received her reply. After that, to avoid running into Fiona and the others, I stayed home until right before the wedding. Soon, the wedding day arrived. On the wedding day, the White family arranged a grand motorcade parade, and multiple city landmarks displayed live broadcasts of the ceremony. It showed how much Vivian valued me. At ten in the morning, I slowly walked up to the ceremony platform, nervously waiting for Vivian’s arrival. Meanwhile, Fiona and the others were drinking at a private club with Marcus, watching the broadcast with cold smiles. “I want to see where he finds a bride to marry without us three.” “Exactly. He needs to be taught a lesson. When we say we were busy, he’ll still protect us. No need to worry about Mr. White getting angry.” Rachel clinked glasses with her companions after speaking. And on the big screen, I had already slowly walked onto the wedding platform. My heart was full of anticipation as I waited for Vivian’s arrival. “Fiona, is this really okay?” Marcus held his wine glass, blinking as he spoke, secretly delighting inside. The others felt a bit uneasy but still pretended nothing was wrong. When the time came, Fiona stood up first, only to find Rachel, usually the loudest, frozen in place. “What’s wrong, Rachel?” Fiona asked. “Fiona, I think Damien was telling the truth. The bride isn’t one of us…” Fiona looked up at the big screen. When she saw the figure walking toward me, she froze. “Vivian White!”

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My boyfriend was a once-in-a-century artistic genius, while I couldn’t even distinguish the most basic color schemes. For seven years, he defended me in front of everyone—until that talented female artist named Quinn Snow appeared. When I injured my leg and needed care, he spent the entire night helping Quinn revise her drafts. When a thug followed me and I called him for help, he had to take Quinn’s dog to the hospital first because it was having birth complications. That day, when friends once again joked that he and Quinn were the perfect match, Adrian no longer defended me like he used to. Instead, he smiled with regret in his eyes. That evening, he even asked me at the dinner table: “Why don’t I ask Quinn to check with her doctor relatives to see if they can cure your color vision disorder?” My hand froze while serving soup. On the surface, Adrian was trying to save our relationship from an impending crisis. But in reality, he had already fallen for another woman. That’s why he was starting to notice and resent my mediocrity. I didn’t answer Adrian’s question. Instead, I smiled bitterly and asked him: “Why do you always bring up Quinn Snow in front of me?” Adrian froze for a moment, guilt flickering across his face. He explained: “You know, right now she’s the only one who can compete with me…” Proud as Adrian was, he never would have explained himself like that before. He used to say: “Cece, my world only has paintbrushes and you. I don’t have energy for anyone else.” But now, Adrian hadn’t even realized it. Quinn Snow’s place in his heart had actually moved ahead of mine. When I injured my leg and needed care, he spent the whole night helping Quinn revise her drafts. When a thug followed me and I called him for help, he had to take Quinn’s dog to the hospital first. When I confronted him, he coldly retorted. He said he didn’t care about Quinn—he cared about art and life. But Adrian, I told you long ago. I can’t tolerate even a grain of sand in my eyes. Adrian’s bluster completely ended when I showed him photos of him and Quinn embracing. His expression changed, as if I had deeply betrayed his trust: “You followed me?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his reaction was excessive and hastily tried to cover it up: “Quinn was drunk that time. I was just supporting her…” Watching Adrian’s clumsy performance, I forced down the ache in my chest and decided to fight for him one last time: “If you still want to be with me, delete all of Quinn Snow’s contact information and never see her again.” After hearing my words, Adrian first stared at me darkly for a while. Then he stood up and, without warning, overturned the dishes onto the floor: “All you do every day is cook and clean! You have zero connection to my art and can’t understand the mutual appreciation between geniuses at all!” “I’ve tolerated your mediocrity and incompetence, yet you want to interfere with my life ideals and social life!” I said nothing, quietly looking at the shattered dishes on the floor. Just like looking at the end of my relationship with Adrian. His crazed expression was too ugly, too unfamiliar. In those seven years of dating, Adrian had always been cold and indifferent. Aside from painting and me, he didn’t care about anyone or anything else. He had never been like this—jumping up in rage, face contorted—as if I were taking away his most treasured possession. I crouched down, touching a ceramic shard, my tone as calm as if discussing the weather: “Adrian, let’s break up.”

My thoughts drifted back eight years. The day I met Adrian, I was on the edge between life and death. Severe depression made it hard to distinguish reality from illusion. I walked onto a bridge in a daze, looking down at the surging river that seemed to beckon me. Adrian, who happened to pass by, noticed my state and pulled me back from the brink. At that time, he was also at a low point in his life. We encouraged each other, healed each other’s wounds, and gradually became the most important people to each other. Later, Adrian stood at the pinnacle of the art world, while I became a stay-at-home girlfriend who only revolved around him. Even so, he always stood up for me when others mocked or belittled me. He took action to defend our love. He told me firmly: “Cece, don’t worry about what others say. You’ll always be one of a kind in my heart!” I thought true love could overcome everything. Turns out the expiration date on our love was only seven years. Sharp pain brought me back to reality. Adrian vented his anger by kicking the broken bowl at his feet. The shards hit the wall not far from me, then bounced back onto my arm. Blood immediately started flowing. Adrian panicked. He rushed over to check my injury, tears even welling in his eyes: “I’m sorry, Cece. I shouldn’t have treated you like that… I’ve hit a bottleneck recently, the pressure is just too much…” While explaining, he frantically rushed me to the hospital. In his urgency, the usually composed Adrian even lost his shoes three times. He still seemed like the Adrian who would lose his composure for me. But only I knew— We could never go back. After watching the doctor treat my wound, Adrian went downstairs to buy me soup. I held my phone and started clearing out the seven years of memories with Adrian stored inside. That’s when Quinn Snow appeared. Come to think of it, this was our first direct confrontation. She herself was like her paintings—breathtakingly beautiful. Quinn looked at me like I was an ant, getting straight to the point: “A fool like you doesn’t deserve Adrian. Break up with him now.” I laughed out loud, with no desire to argue with her, keeping my head down as I continued clearing my phone. Seeing my indifference, Quinn shoved her chat window with Adrian in my face. [Cece has changed. She never used to argue with me. Tonight she even deliberately didn’t dodge the shards. It feels like she’s playing the victim for sympathy.] My heart clenched with pain. Before, if I just accidentally bumped into something, Adrian would lose sleep all night from worry. Now I had such a long gash, yet he thought I was playing the victim for sympathy. Indeed— When a man stops loving you, even if you hang yourself, he’ll just think you’re on a swing! I blinked my eyes, desperately forcing back the tears. Quinn continued scrolling up the screen. I stayed motionless, masochistically viewing their chat history. That Adrian who was always quiet and cold to everyone except me was actually interacting with Quinn every single day. They shared paintings they loved, interesting things in life, even a weirdly shaped crooked tree. I suddenly felt it was all quite meaningless. I moved my gaze from the screen to Quinn’s triumphant face, enunciating almost word by word: “You shameless homewrecker.” The smile on Quinn’s face briefly disappeared. A moment later, she raised an even more provocative smile: “Want to make a bet to see who Adrian trusts and cares about more?” With that, she suddenly grabbed my hair and dragged me to the wall, forcefully slamming my head against it. My right hand was injured and I was completely unprepared, so I couldn’t break free from her grip at all. Once, twice, three times. Quinn only stopped after drawing blood. Then she put on a panicked, frightened expression and stumbled toward the door: “Doctor! Nurse! Where are you! Someone’s self-harming here!”

Adrian, having received the message, rushed back. I hadn’t said anything yet when Quinn tearfully grabbed Adrian’s sleeve: “Adrian, you have to believe me. I didn’t touch a single hair on Cece’s head!” After a long silence, Adrian comforted Quinn a few times before walking toward me with a complicated expression. He glanced at the bandage wrapped around my head, as if asking a question he already knew the answer to: “Cece, tell me the truth. Are you jealous that Quinn and I are kindred spirits in art, so you…” “Slap!” I interrupted Adrian’s nonsense with a slap. My left palm went numb from the impact, but aside from heartache, I couldn’t seem to feel pain anywhere else in my body. Was this the man I’d loved for seven years? Quinn immediately rushed over and pulled the dazed Adrian away from me. “Framing me is one thing, but Adrian just wanted to ask what happened. How could you hit him!” She accused me while crying heartbroken tears: “Adrian, sit here and don’t move. I’ll go find a nurse to get an ice pack…” I gave them both a cold look and took out my phone to call 911: “Don’t rush to leave. Since you say I’m trying to frame you, let the police clear your name.” Quinn instinctively glanced at the ceiling. I knew she was well aware there were no surveillance cameras in the hospital room. But unfortunately, I’d suffered this kind of loss once before long ago. So the moment Quinn approached me, I had already turned on my phone’s recording function. At the same time, I understood Adrian very well. He was someone extremely protective. The person occupying his thoughts was no longer me. If I didn’t wait for the police to arrive before presenting evidence, I wouldn’t even have the chance to show it. Quinn quietly waited for me to finish the call. She bit her lip pitifully, forcing a smile: “It’s okay, Adrian. As long as you believe me, that’s enough.” “An honest person fears no crooked shadows. I believe the police will clear my name!” Adrian looked at her with eyes full of sympathy for a good while, then turned to scold me: “How did you become so vicious? Filing false police reports wastes public resources. When the police come, you explain it to them yourself!” I laughed out loud: “But Adrian, from the moment you came in until now, have I said a single bad word about Quinn Snow?” Adrian froze, his face instantly showing traces of embarrassment and hesitation. An indescribable exhaustion swept through my entire body. I closed my eyes, no longer bothering with his excuses, quietly waiting for the police to arrive. Quinn was someone who liked to seize the initiative. As soon as the police arrived, she immediately stepped forward and pointed at me accusingly: “I just came to visit her out of kindness, and she suddenly ran and hit the wall herself, then blamed it on me!” Adrian wore an apologetic expression: “Sorry, officers. My girlfriend’s been emotionally unstable lately. It might be related to the depression she had before…” My heart jumped violently. During the worst year of my illness, Adrian was most afraid of anyone mentioning those words in front of me. When I was self-harming, he held me tightly. Even when cut by the sharp blade in my hand, he would tirelessly coax me again and again: “Cece, you’re not sick. You’re just not very happy. I’ll find a way to make you better, and you can’t give up on yourself either!” But now, to clear Quinn of suspicion, he actually used my past trauma to attack and deal with me as if it meant nothing. The police didn’t immediately believe their story. He looked at me: “Miss West, do you have anything to say?” I smiled slightly and played the recording on the spot.

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Ten years ago, another girl and I were sold into the mountains. To buy me time to escape, they broke both her legs. After we were rescued, my parents took her in as their adopted daughter and treated her like their own. Because of this, they neglected me—the one suffering from severe depression. They said, “You only have depression, but Wendy lost both her legs because of you.” But Mom, Dad, you’re both psychologists. Don’t you know that people with depression don’t want to live? My hand trembled uncontrollably as I clutched my phone. The physical symptoms were getting worse—my bones itched unbearably from deep within. I’d called Mom over a dozen times. She’d hung up every single one. Her text message was ice cold too. *Nina, today is Wendy’s comingofage ceremony. Stop making a scene.* My fingers unconsciously picked at the scabbed wound. I felt no pain—only a strange, liberating pleasure. I pressed my lips together and slowly typed a reply. Okay, Mom. I’ll make dinner and wait for you and Dad to come home. They were the city’s top psychologists with countless patients. But they still made time in their busy schedules to attend Wendy’s comingofage ceremony. I wiped away my tears and staggered to my feet. With practiced ease, I wrapped gauze around my wound and pulled on a longsleeved shirt that covered everything. Layer after layer of fabric wrapped around my body felt awkward. But over time, I’d gotten used to it. I ordered lots of ingredients through a delivery app. Dad’s favorite sea bass, Mom’s favorite beef, and Wendy’s beloved salmon. I washed the blood off the knife and tucked it back into the knife block, then grabbed another knife to prep the ingredients. My phone buzzed a few times. It was a voice message from Wendy. She was as gentle as always. “Nina, Mom and Dad both came to my comingofage ceremony. Why didn’t you come?” My thoughts felt sluggish. It wasn’t until an alarm with a reminder went off on my phone that I remembered why I hadn’t gone. Because today was my comingofage ceremony too. Last night before bed, I’d been abnormally excited. I imagined what gifts Mom and Dad might prepare for me. Maybe receiving their gifts would give me just a little more will to live. I lowered my eyes and looked at the family photo Wendy had sent me. She sat in her wheelchair, her biological parents standing on the left, my mom and dad standing on the right. The four of them held up a banner. *Wishing Wendy health every year, worryfree always.* I snapped back to reality and sent her my blessing and explanation. “Wendy, happy birthday.” “I didn’t come because today is my comingofage ceremony too. Can you tell Mom and Dad for me?” “I’m waiting for them to come home for dinner.” Wendy didn’t reply. But I knew she must be crying from guilt right now, urging Mom and Dad to come home and be with me. We’d survived together, grown up side by side for ten years, connected like flesh and bone. No one understood each other better than we did. There was only one thing I’d kept from her. Her legs were broken, but she escaped that mountain village. My soul, however, remained locked there forever, unable to find peace. I shook my head, pushing away the chaotic thoughts, and focused on preparing the meal. Half an hour later, the front door opened. Several voices called my name in unison. “Nina, we’re home.” Wendy’s choked voice stood out especially. “Nina, I’m sorry, I didn’t know today was your birthday too…” I pressed down my trembling hands and poked my head out from the kitchen. Mom and Dad wheeled Wendy to the kitchen doorway. The sweet scent of chocolate cake wafted toward me. Mom cleared her throat and handed the cake to me. “Happy birthday, Nina.” The light in my eyes suddenly brightened. But the moment I touched the cake, that brightness instantly turned to deathly silence. I’d seen this cake before. In the photos Wendy sent me, this was the top tier of the beautiful, elaborate fivelayer cake.

I still put on a smile. “I’ve already made dinner. Should we eat now?” Wendy looked up, her gaze tracing over my face again and again. After confirming I really wasn’t angry, she breathed a sigh of relief and quickly grabbed my hand. “Let’s eat! Nina, you don’t know how terrible the restaurant food was.” “It’s your birthday and you still had to cook. That must have been hard.” I kept smiling, the curve of my lips unchanged. But I suddenly yanked my hand free from Wendy’s grasp, turned, and rushed into my room, slamming the door hard. The bedroom curtains were drawn tight, not letting in a sliver of light. I curled up in the corner, my whole body shaking uncontrollably. I couldn’t. I couldn’t let Wendy see me like this. Mom started pounding on the door. “Nina, you scared Wendy with your dramatics!” “Come out right now and apologize to Wendy!” I desperately pinched my palm to control myself, creating several bloody crescent marks. “I’ll be right out, Mom.” I stumbled to my nightstand and took out the gift I’d prepared for Wendy long ago. Taking several deep breaths, I opened the door. Wendy hung her head while Mom and Dad stood beside her, their expressions tense. I grinned as if nothing had happened and crouched beside Wendy. “Wendy, you love vintage things. I found this for you.” Scalding tears fell onto the back of my hand. Her voice was hoarse as she asked: “Nina, we’ve known each other for ten years, and I didn’t even remember your birthday. Are you upset with me?” I shook my head gently. “No.” If it hadn’t been for Wendy back then, I would have died long ago. Mom let out a long breath and wheeled Wendy to the dining table. Dad pulled me into the kitchen under the pretense of serving food. “Nina, I hope what happened today doesn’t happen again.” “Wendy became the way she is because of you. You shouldn’t give her the cold shoulder.” I clutched my clothes, my voice soft: “Dad, I wasn’t being cold. It’s the physical manifestation of my depression.” He frowned, his voice turning cold: “Nina, depression isn’t that easy to get. Have you been secretly reading your mother’s and my psychology books again?” I opened my mouth but didn’t know how to argue. The doorbell rang. Mom opened the door and welcomed Wendy’s parents inside. They still wore the custommade formal wear from Wendy’s ceremony, carrying a few boxes of milk and snacks. Their attitude was perfunctory and dismissive. “We didn’t realize today was Nina’s birthday too. We didn’t have time to prepare any gifts.” Mom and Dad’s smiles didn’t change one bit. They’d long grown accustomed to Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence’s dismissive attitude toward me. The person who’d caused Wendy to lose her legs had died. So naturally, the Lawrences transferred their hatred to me. I said nothing and simply brought the dishes to the table. I sat down next to Wendy. The two sets of parents chatted animatedly. Under the table, Wendy’s hand moved and hooked around my finger. Her voice was quiet: “Nina, you’re eating too little.” I leaned close to her ear and whispered my secret. “I can’t eat much right now.” Actually, that wasn’t it. It was because my depression was too severe. One more bite and I’d want to vomit. Vomiting in front of elders would be very rude. Wendy laughed at my serious tone. The parents’ conversation stopped, their eyes falling on us. Mrs. Lawrence set down her fork: “Wendy, your comingofage ceremony was ruined. How can you still be so happy?” The atmosphere instantly froze. Mom and Dad exchanged glances and tried to smooth things over with a laugh: “The kids are just whispering and laughing, it’s nothing…” “Kids?” Mrs. Lawrence scoffed. “They’re adults now. What kind of kids?” “Some things need to be said clearly. Back then, you two caused both children to be kidnapped. My daughter nearly died, but your daughter came out without a scratch!” “And you two keep showing up in front of my daughter.” Her voice suddenly rose: “You’re the culprits! You’re breaking my daughter’s heart!” The peace maintained for many years shattered in this moment. Mom and Dad’s faces went white, breaking out in cold sweat from guilt. Wendy gripped my icecold hand tightly and screamed in disbelief: “Mom, what are you saying?” Mrs. Lawrence’s eyes were icy: “Wendy, you’re softhearted, but being softhearted to everyone will only hurt you.” “From now on, we forbid you from seeing Nina again.” They ignored Wendy’s protests and wheeled her away. As the door slammed shut, I met her tearfilled eyes as she shook her head frantically. I bit the soft flesh inside my cheek and silently mouthed: “It’s okay.” Mom and Dad sat at the dining table, their faces pale as paper. Their eyes were empty, unfocused, murmuring: “Nina, you deserve this.” “This is what our family owes them.” I nodded and returned to my room, vomit and tears falling together into the trash can. If I’d died in that village, would everyone be happy?

I didn’t know when I fell asleep. In my dream, I seemed to return to that year when I was eight. A depression patient my parents had been treating jumped off a building. The patient’s family believed Mom and Dad had guided the patient to commit suicide. They wanted to make Mom and Dad experience the pain of losing a loved one too. So they found my school and kidnapped me. Wendy saw me being dragged into the car and started crying from fear. The kidnappers were afraid of being exposed, so they took her too. After several transfers, we were sold to a mountain village. The man who bought us was a single man. He treated me as a woman and treated Wendy like livestock. When Wendy went out to work in the fields, he would tie me to the bed. I don’t know how long those days lasted. I finally found a chance to knock him unconscious with something. But I was too weak—he only passed out for a moment. Wendy came home just in time and grabbed his legs to hold him back. I ran to the village entrance and happened to run into Mom and Dad, who’d followed the leads to find me. But when we went back to save Wendy, her legs were already twisted beyond recognition. Such a terrifying dream. This dream had tormented me for ten years. I woke with a start, my hands trembling as I grabbed my phone to call Wendy. She hadn’t slept either, crying until her voice was hoarse but still trying to comfort me. “Nina, don’t listen to what they said.” “It’s not your fault. You’re innocent too.” I was silent for a moment before speaking softly: “Wendy, can I come see you?” I ran as fast as I could to Wendy’s apartment building. She was struggling to wheel herself out. I rushed over and pushed her to the small garden in the residential complex. It was the middle of the night—the complex was empty. The world was so quiet, there was only us. I fumbled in my pocket and pressed my bank card with all my savings into her hand. “I know your aunt and uncle got you the latest prosthetic technology that won’t irritate your residual limbs.” She pushed it back with red eyes. I insisted on tucking it into her pocket. “Wendy, don’t refuse me.” “Our family owes your family. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be healthy.” “Just let me make it up to you, even just a little.” I crouched in front of her and gently brushed against her leg. Ten years ago, when I was thrown out like a broken rag doll, she’d cried as she placed my head on her lap. She told me everything would be okay. Now, tears streaming down her face, she tremblingly brushed my teardampened hair away from my face. “Nina, Nina, everything will get better.” The night was pitch black, but Wendy’s eyes always sparkled. I said nothing. After we’d both cried silently for a long time, a light turned on. Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence arrived, their voices trembling: “You again!” “Nina, why are you looking for my daughter in the middle of the night?” Furious, they pulled Wendy in front of them. Their voices held unbearable pain. “Wendy! You can ignore the harm she’s caused you.” “But do you know that every time you see her, our hearts ache!” “In our eyes, she’s the culprit who turned you into this! We wish she would die!” “Please don’t see her anymore, okay?” Wendy cried and shook her head. But I laughed: “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence.” “Today is the last time I’ll see Wendy.” Finally, I bent down and whispered in Wendy’s ear: “What happened in that village—never speak of it again, even until death.” With that, I turned and left decisively. Wendy’s crying and shouting scattered in the wind. I walked far away before I dared look back. My heart felt like it had a huge hole torn in it, whistling with wind. The bond we’d grown up with, connected like flesh and bone, I’d severed with my own hands. It hurt so much. It hurt even more than when the knife sliced across my wrist.

When I got home, Mom and Dad were sitting on the sofa with cold faces. I took a deep breath and put on a smile. “Mom, Dad, why aren’t you sleeping so late?” They looked at me, their eyes full of exhaustion. “Nina, what did you do?” “Do you know Wendy just threatened to kill herself?” The forced smile froze on my face, a buzzing sound filling my ears. I shook my head, my voice distant: “Mom, my depression is really bad. I just had an auditory hallucination.” “How could Wendy want to kill herself?” Mom walked up to me, her eyeballs filled with bloodshot veins. Her hand rose high and came down hard. A burning sting spread across my cheek. I heard her crying as she shouted at me: “Nina, how long are you going to keep up this act?” “Wendy was kidnapped because of us. To save you, she became disabled. We were afraid she and her family would hate you, so we did everything we could to make it up to her.” “But what did you do? You saw her once and almost drove her to death!” She covered her face and collapsed crying into Dad’s arms. Dad’s face was deathly pale, his lips trembling: “Nina, Wendy is more pitiful than you.” “I don’t care what you said to her. Come with us to the hospital right now and get on your knees to apologize to her and her parents.” “You don’t come home until they forgive you.” He reached out and grabbed my wrist, his fingertips pressing right into my wound through my sleeve. The pain brought me a strange pleasure. I suddenly laughed. Under their horrified gazes, I rolled up my sleeve a little. Just enough to reveal the wound on my wrist. “If I apologize to them, then who’s going to apologize to me?” “Mom, Dad, I have very, very severe depression. I want to die.” I said this almost woodenly. Mom cried even harder, and Dad’s face looked even worse. They pushed past me and slammed the door hard. Leaving behind only one sentence: “Playing the victim to escape responsibility again. If we’d known you’d turn out like this, we shouldn’t have rescued you in the first place.” I stood in the living room for a very, very long time. So long that the sky changed from dark to gray, and finally a piercing light appeared. The sky outside grew bright. But my sky had become eternal night. I smiled a little and moved my numb legs. I picked up the broom and mop and cleaned the entire house. When I was first rescued, I wouldn’t eat or drink, my whole person like a soulless broken doll. Mom and Dad were afraid I’d do something drastic, so they tried every way to distract me. They choked up: “Nina, if there’s anything that can make you forget those things, just do it.” “Mom and Dad don’t want to lose you.” For those words, I became obsessed with housework. Over time, the habit stuck. But this time I was exceptionally meticulous, cleaning every corner. After all, it was the last time. I put on my most presentable clothes and lay down on the bed. I opened the sleeping pills I’d prepared long ago and shoved them into my mouth by the handful. Good thing I’d prepared honey water. Otherwise, how could I swallow such bitter pills? Outside the window, clouds covered the sun. It was dark—perfect for sleeping. But as I grew drowsy, I wanted to say goodbye to them. I sent everyone a message. *Dad, I’m in so much pain right now.* *Mom, I miss you so much. You haven’t hugged me in so long.* *Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, I’m sorry. I’m the one who hurt Wendy.* *Wendy, you guessed my illness. Don’t do anything fool…* My vision kept going black. I had no strength left. My body didn’t hurt anymore either. I felt light as a feather. Let it be like this. There’s nothing much left I want to say.

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In my senior year of high school, I was brought back home from the countryside. Watching me count on my fingers to do basic arithmetic, while my brother, the same age as me, had already become a study influencer with millions of followers. My parents, both education experts, teared up and hugged me with heartache. “We’re so sorry. We shouldn’t have left you in the countryside. We’ll make it up to you.” For my sake, Mom quit her high-paying job to tutor me every day. Dad started drinking with clients every night just to hire the best tutors for me. My brother Ethan even livestreamed tutoring sessions with me every evening. But on the placement test, I only scored nine out of one hundred fifty on the math exam. Mom stared at that bright red single-digit score and completely broke down. She tore my test paper to shreds, screaming hysterically. “Your father and I both graduated from top universities, and your brother is a genius. How could we possibly have given birth to an idiot like you!” Ethan walked over with a dark expression and activated a new interactive feature on his livestream. “Everyone, from now on, you can submit questions. We’ll display them in real-time.” “Today, she’s not allowed to eat or sleep until she finishes every single problem!” Instantly, thousands of difficult problems flooded the screen like a waterfall, everything from elementary school math competitions to calculus. I was forced to sit at the desk. Looking at that endless sea of problems, I picked up my pen in despair. I thought back to my time in the countryside. My grandparents always praised me as the smartest child in the world. Why did I become a criminal when I came to Mom’s house? Mom, I’m not worthless. Please give me one more chance.

The livestream camera was pointed at my face. Comments scrolled rapidly. “Stop playing dead and do the problems. One problem equals one donation. Keep it up, streamer.” “Her eyes can barely stay open. Is she about to die?” “Shut up! This kind of waste deserves to be punished, or else she won’t appreciate what her parents are doing for her.” My heart felt like it was being squeezed. Each contraction brought a stabbing pain. Mom had told me before that if I didn’t feel well, I should tell her so it wouldn’t affect my study efficiency. I remembered. I used all my strength to squeeze a few words from my throat. “Mom, my chest hurts.” If she’d just let me rest for a moment, even just five minutes, I would definitely solve the next problem. Mom was staring at the livestream data on Ethan’s phone. She didn’t even look up. “Cut the act.” Her voice was cold. “Your brother once had a fever of 104 degrees and still kept working through competition math problems. He didn’t get a single one wrong.” “You’ve only done a few problems and you’re already hurting here and there?” Ethan smirked mockingly. He explained smoothly to the camera. “See this, everyone? This is typical avoidant personality. When faced with difficulty, she tries to gain sympathy by playing weak.” After saying that, he muted all comments. The entire livestream fell silent, leaving only a blood-red banner pinned at the top. “No eating or sleeping until all problems are finished!” The mocking voices around me gradually faded. The whirlpool before my eyes grew larger and larger. I thought of Grandma back in the countryside. She used to fan herself on summer nights and tell me that when people die, their souls become very, very light and can fly up to the sky and become stars. I really wanted to become a star. That way, I could see Grandma. Snap. The sound of my pen tip breaking. Then my throat turned sweet. Warm blood surged out and sprayed onto the blank test paper in front of me. I’m sorry, Mom. Today’s problems… I can’t finish them. The world suddenly went quiet. My chest stopped hurting. My body really did seem to become lighter-so light that it floated up from the chair. I floated near the ceiling, watching myself still slumped over the desk, motionless. Mom finally walked over. She saw the blood on the test paper, and a flash of panic crossed her eyes. But that panic lasted only one second. She probably thought I’d deliberately knocked over red ink. Mom, that’s not red ink. I’m sorry I got your test paper dirty. I watched the panic in her eyes quickly turn to rage. “Alysa! You’ve gotten bold now, haven’t you? Playing these little tricks!” “Fine. I’ll see just how long you can keep up this act!” “Click.” The door was locked from the outside. Mom’s icy voice came through the door, piercing. “You’re not leaving this room until you finish every single problem!”

The room was terrifyingly quiet. Only the livestream equipment blinked with a faint red light. My body lay slumped on the desk, motionless. Outside the door, I heard the low voices of Dad, Mom, and Ethan. “Are you dressed? We can’t be late for Mr. Evans’ dinner.” That was Dad’s voice. “All ready. Ethan, hurry up. Your grandparents are going too. Don’t keep them waiting.” That was Mom. Ethan’s voice carried a hint of impatience. “I know, I know. Stop nagging.” They were going out. Going to a lively family dinner. And I was locked in this room. An invisible force pulled at me, preventing me from staying in place. I could only follow them, passing through that locked door. Don’t go… Mom, I haven’t finished the problems yet. Where are you going? Did I do something wrong again? Is that why you’re leaving me behind? I floated behind them, watching Ethan’s limited-edition sneakers gleaming under the lights. They were all dressed up, looking completely unrelated to the girl growing cold in that room. The family got in the car. The heat was on full blast. As soon as Ethan got in, he pulled out his phone to brag. “Dad, Mom, look! My livestream broke another record! We had over 200,000 viewers online at the same time!” Mom’s face immediately lit up with satisfaction. “That’s my son. So accomplished.” Dad nodded approvingly. “Keep it up. This account is going to be valuable for your future.” They laughed, planning a beautiful future. I tried to touch Mom’s hand. It was the warmth I used to crave most. But my fingertips passed right through her body without resistance. Mom, your hands are still so warm. Why can’t I feel them anymore? Am I too cold? The car stopped at a red light. A skinny stray dog on the roadside suddenly started barking frantically at our window. Its barks were shrill, drawing looks from passersby. After a few barks, it let out a series of whimpers, tucking its tail and whining pitifully as it looked at me in the car. It pitied me. Dad was annoyed by the noise. He rolled down the window, about to scold the dog. But then he heard someone in the car next to us watching their phone and commenting loudly. “Look at this livestream! Is this girl okay? She’s been slumped over for almost two hours without moving!” “Seriously? Let me see… oh my God, her hands are turning purple! Someone call the police!” The smiles froze on my parents’ faces. Dad snatched the phone from Ethan and stared at the livestream. On screen, I still maintained my “sleeping” position, completely motionless. The flicker of concern in Mom’s eyes quickly morphed into contempt and anger. “I knew she was faking it! That little brat-she’ll do anything to avoid seeing relatives. Shameless!” Dad’s expression also turned cold. He tossed the phone back to Ethan, disgust in his voice. “Turn the livestream volume to max and loop math formulas for her.” “Let’s see how long she can sleep!” I wasn’t faking… Mom, I’m just too tired. I fell asleep. When I wake up, I’ll definitely finish all the problems. Please don’t be angry, okay? Accompanied by formulas I couldn’t understand, the car smoothly pulled into the five-star hotel parking lot. They got out and headed toward that feast without me. And I could only follow behind them.

The hotel’s most luxurious private dining room was full of relatives from the Sterling family. The moment they walked in, all eyes turned toward them. I saw my grandparents sitting in the seats of honor. When they realized no one was behind my parents, the light in their eyes dimmed. “Where’s Alysa?” Grandma stood up shakily, looking anxiously toward the door. “Didn’t you say you’d bring Alysa today? Since the child came back to the city, I haven’t even gotten a good look at her.” Mom sat down in her seat and picked up the wine glass in front of her, taking a small sip. “Don’t worry.” She smiled, though her tone carried a hint of helplessness. “Alysa is so stubborn. She got wild living in the countryside. She said she didn’t want to see the family, so now she’s at home staging a hunger strike.” My soul floated in midair. The table was full of delicious food, but I couldn’t smell any of it. I only felt cold. I watched grandma sit back down in disappointment and secretly slip a freshly fried chicken leg into her coat pocket. She muttered quietly to herself, “This child just loves the chicken legs I make… I’ll bring it back for her later.” A fashionably dressed aunt spoke up, her tone dripping with flattery. “Oh, don’t worry too much. Ethan is so outstanding. That’s what matters, right?” “Exactly,” another uncle chimed in. “Our Ethan is an influencer with millions of followers and a future Ivy League student! What could a country girl possibly amount to?” The relatives immediately began praising Ethan. Ethan waved his hand modestly. “Hey, everyone, please don’t say that.” He sighed, his voice just loud enough for everyone at the table to hear. “My sister is completely unmanageable. Today during the study livestream, everyone saw it. She started playing sick while doing problems, acting like she was dying.” “For her sake, my mom quit her job. My dad goes out networking every day. What does she do? She doesn’t appreciate any of it.” With just a few sentences, he painted me as ungrateful. The entire private room turned into a collective trial against me. “I told you. Kids who grow up in the countryside just don’t work out. Nothing but bad habits.” “Must be a genetic mutation. Otherwise how do you explain a family of geniuses producing a waste?” “Thank God we still have Ethan to carry on the family name, or she’d have ruined the Sterling family’s reputation completely!” Bang! Grandma slammed the table in fury and stood up. Her thin fingers trembled with anger as she pointed at everyone around the table. “What nonsense are you all spouting!” “Alysa is the sweetest child in the world! When she was in the village, she drew pictures for me every day-clouds in the sky, flowers in the fields. She’s more thoughtful than anyone!” “It’s you! It’s you people who brought her back and pushed her too hard!” Dad finally put down his fork. He wiped his mouth deliberately and looked at Grandma with stern authority. “You don’t understand education.” “She needs to suffer a little now so she won’t be worthless in the future.” “We locked her at home to make her reflect on what she did wrong.” Reflect? I floated beside Grandma, wishing I could hug her and tell her not to be angry. Don’t be angry over someone who’s already dead. But the moment I got close, Grandma shivered violently. “Oh my, why is the air conditioning in this room so cold?” Grandma, it’s me. I’m too cold. I looked at the fried chicken hidden in grandma’s pocket-the one she saved for me. My soul trembled violently. That chicken leg was still hot and steaming. But I would never get to eat it.

The atmosphere in the private room fell into deadlock because of Grandma’s outburst. “You don’t believe me?” Grandma pulled a crumpled letter from her inner pocket with trembling hands. “This is what Alysa secretly sent to me a few days ago! Look. This is her drawing!” She carefully unfolded the paper like she was holding a treasure. “She said she missed home and wanted to come back to the countryside… Look how well she draws!” On the paper was the endless field of flowers from the countryside. In the golden sea of flowers stood four people. Dad, Mom, Ethan, and me. Dad was lifting me high above his head. Mom and Ethan stood on either side. Everyone’s faces wore brilliant smiles. This was the only fantasy that kept me alive after coming to the city. But Mom didn’t even glance at it. She snatched the drawing away, her eyes full of contempt and impatience. “Who has time for this useless stuff!” “It’s these pointless hobbies that ruined her! Instead of studying, all she does is draw, draw, draw. Can that get her into an Ivy League school?” Before anyone could respond, she tore the drawing in half right in front of everyone. Then into more pieces. “The Sterling family doesn’t need mediocre artists!” “We only need Ivy League graduates!” Her shrill voice echoed through the room. The torn pieces of the drawing were thrown viciously into the trash bin for used plates. When the drawing was shredded, I felt my last attachment to this family break. Mom, I don’t hurt anymore. And I don’t want another chance anymore. My soul began to turn transparent. Even Grandma’s grief-stricken cries became distant. Just when Mom thought she’d won and successfully “educated” the disobedient old woman- Ethan’s phone suddenly vibrated frantically. It was a video call request. Ethan answered impatiently, planning to show off their fancy family dinner to the camera. But when the screen lit up, he froze. The livestream chat was filled with red text. “Call the police now! Streamer, your sister is really in trouble!” “I zoomed in. There’s blood at the corner of her mouth! She’s not sleeping!” “Streamer, go home and check on her! She hasn’t moved for three hours! Her hands have turned blue-purple!” “We’ve already called the police! The address is your house!” BANG! The door to the private room was suddenly shoved open from outside. It wasn’t a server. It was two grave-faced police officers in uniform. Behind them followed a medical examiner. The entire room fell deathly silent. The lead officer’s gaze was sharp. He scanned the room and finally settled on my parents. He pulled out a photo freshly printed from a portable printer. In the photo, I was slumped over the desk with blood at the corner of my mouth, my body rigid. It was a close-up. The officer’s voice was cold, each word clearly shattering the false atmosphere in the room. “Who is Alysa Sterling’s legal guardian?” “We received numerous reports from the public that your daughter had an accident during a livestream.” “After preliminary assessment by our technical department, we’ve confirmed no vital signs.” “Estimated time of death: two hours ago.”

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On our wedding anniversary, what I received wasn’t a gift. It was a settlement agreement thrust at me by Peyton. “Sign it, and I’ll release your brother.” My eyes reddened as I asked him, “Peyton, my mother had six organs harvested by your mistress, and you want me to forgive her?!” He handed me a photo without expression. My brother was bound to a chair, covered in wounds, with someone holding a knife to his throat. Peyton asked coldly, “Will you sign or not?” Through tears, I signed my name, then turned and dialed another number. “Felix, that condition you offered back then… does it still stand?” Later, Peyton knelt in the rain begging me to come back. He didn’t know- I was already carrying someone else’s child. Jenna Frost POV On our third wedding anniversary, what I received from Peyton wasn’t a gift, but a settlement agreement. “Sign this, and I’ll have your brother released.” I looked at the man’s sharply defined face through the cigarette smoke, feeling for the first time like I couldn’t see him clearly. “Peyton, my mother is dead. You want me to let Carmen go?” Peyton took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “Jenna, she’s a professional medical assessor. It was her job, not intentional.” “Not intentional?” I shot to my feet, speaking through clenched teeth. “Six. Six whole organs! Peyton, you’re actually saying she removed six organs from my mother, ultimately causing her death, and it wasn’t intentional?” Thinking of my mother’s pallid face before her death, waves of pain crashed through my heart. It had been simple gastritis, but Carmen insisted she was in mortal danger and needed emergency surgery. My brother Wade was so frightened and confused that he signed form after form. But in the end, what we received was a death notice. My mother had died after having six organs removed. Later, Wade found out that Carmen had no surgical skills and had only wanted to experience holding a scalpel. Enraged, he stormed into her office. But the next second, Peyton’s men grabbed him. I immediately took Carmen to court. But I never imagined Peyton would show up with a settlement agreement for me to sign. “What if I don’t sign?” I reached out and tore the agreement before me into shreds. Peyton said nothing, only threw a stack of photos in front of me. “Don’t be rash. Look first, then decide.” The moment I saw the photos, my pupils trembled. In the pictures, my brother was bound to a chair, his head lolling to one side, his body covered in bruises, with electric shock devices placed nearby. “You…” I choked up instantly, unable to hold back my shout. “Peyton, you bastard! That’s my brother!” Peyton stood and walked over to me, bending down to pick up the torn settlement agreement, tapping his fingers on it twice. “Before court tomorrow, I need to see a signed agreement. I’m sorry, but Carmen can’t go to prison. This is the only way.” “What about my mother? She just deserves to die at Carmen’s hands?!” I gripped the table, my veins bulging in anger. But Peyton pressed me back down into the chair, his hands braced on either side of my armrests, his voice low. “Your mother is already dead, but your brother is still alive. Jenna, think it through carefully.” “Being alive is always more meaningful than being dead, isn’t it?” I took a deep breath. The scent of cedar mixed with tobacco flooded my nostrils. This fragrance that once made me feel so secure now made me feel sick. “Sign the papers, and Wade comes home tonight. Don’t sign…” Peyton’s fingertips gently traced my earlobe, the gesture intimate, but his voice ghostly. “Next time, it won’t be photos I send.” With that, he pulled out a fountain pen, methodically unscrewed the cap, and handed it to me. His long, clean fingers rested on the pen’s end-these hands had once caressed my face with such tenderness countless times. But now, the moment I touched his fingertips, I felt only endless cold spreading through my entire body. I signed my name stroke by stroke, each one feeling like cutting into my own flesh. Peyton collected the agreement with satisfaction, then turned and glanced at me. “Tomorrow when the reporters ask, you know what to say.” Even after the door closed, I remained in the position of holding the pen, though tears dripped onto the table without making a sound. The phone rang abruptly, and only then did I hazily come back to myself and answer. “You called me? Sorry, I was in a meeting.” A slightly cold voice came through. Only then did I realize I’d accidentally touched the screen. I was about to hang up, but as the words formed, I suddenly had another idea. “That condition from before… does it still stand?” I gripped the phone tightly, my breathing quickening with the silence on the other end. Finally, when I heard him respond with a simple “Mm,” I let out a breath of relief. “Good. A phone call isn’t convenient. Let’s meet in person.” The second the call ended, Peyton sent me a message reminding me to attend court on time tomorrow. I pulled at my lips, tossed aside my phone, and left.

Jenna Frost POV The next day in court. I stood in the witness box, reading the script Peyton had prepared for me. “I admit, there was a misunderstanding in my previous accusations against Dr. Carmen. My mother’s physical condition was complex, and the surgery itself carried extremely high risks…” I held back the burning in my eyes. Each word felt like biting my own tongue. Carmen was released in court. Outside the courthouse, I watched the reporters surge forward, and tears immediately welled up. I sobbed in front of the cameras. “I just wanted to save lives. I never imagined I’d be so misunderstood. It’s all my fault. I’ve already decided to resign.” At these words, all the microphones turned toward me. “Miss Frost, why would you falsely accuse a dedicated doctor trying to save lives?” “Because of your false accusations, the already tense doctor-patient relationship has gotten even worse. Don’t you feel any guilt?” The interrogating voices drowned me like a tide. I opened my mouth to say something, but was hit in the face by an egg thrown from somewhere in the crowd, forcing me to close my mouth. The sticky egg white sealed my eyelashes. Then water bottles, rotten vegetables, even fists-all came raining down on me like hail. I instinctively looked toward Peyton, but only saw him carefully shielding Carmen in his arms as he led her away. I instantly lost all strength, letting myself lose consciousness amid the barrage of punches and kicks. When I woke again, I was in a hospital room reeking of disinfectant. I moved slightly. My entire body hurt like it might fall apart. My forehead had been stitched up, and my vision was blurred. A familiar figure stood by the bed, his voice devoid of warmth. “You’re awake? Should I get a doctor?” I had no strength. I shook my head slightly. Peyton looked at me, hesitated for a moment, then continued. “I’ll handle the reporters. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect this to happen.” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. He paused, reaching out as if to touch my bandaged forehead. But I instinctively turned my head away. Finally, he tucked in my blanket, his voice lowering. “Carmen is timid. She was frightened this time. Don’t… hold it against her.” I snapped my eyes open and stared hard at him. He used my brother’s life to force me to settle, trampled my dignity and my mother’s life to protect another woman, and now he was telling me not to hold it against her? My heart felt like it had been violently torn open, with cold wind rushing endlessly inside. I suddenly felt it was all so meaningless. After much deliberation, I slowly lowered my gaze and finally said those words. “Peyton, let’s divorce.” At this, Peyton’s hand paused as he poured water, his eyes complex as he looked at me on the bed. I closed my eyes, not wanting him to see the tears in them. “Throwing a tantrum again? Jenna, I thought after yesterday, you would’ve learned.” For the first time, I felt I’d never truly known Peyton. The Peyton of the past would fly back from abroad just because I’d cut my finger. But now, when I was physically and mentally exhausted, he only said I was “throwing a tantrum.” I swallowed the sob in my throat. “Fine. I won’t mention divorce.” Peyton’s expression eased slightly, and I continued. “But I want to see Wade. At least let me know he’s safe.” “You can, but not now.” He stood and adjusted his cuffs. “Once this matter completely blows over and the media stops targeting Carmen, I’ll naturally let you see him.” “Oh, and Carmen was frightened. I’m not comfortable with her living alone, so starting today, she’ll be moving into the villa.” “No! I…” I refused, but before I could finish, Peyton cut me off. “I’m just informing you. If you dare leave, don’t blame me for breaking your brother’s legs!” With that, he turned and left the hospital room without looking back. I lay powerlessly on the cold hospital bed, sudden sharp pain radiating from my forehead. I couldn’t hold back anymore and curled up, sobbing. For the first time, I regretted saving him years ago.

Jenna Frost POV Eight years ago, when I accompanied my father on a business trip, I encountered Peyton on the street, barely clinging to life. I didn’t want to get involved, but Peyton grabbed my foot desperately. He was filthy and disheveled, but his eyes shone with startling brightness. I was moved by his will to survive and begged my father to save him. When he woke, I stood by his hospital bed and asked. “Will you be my bodyguard and protect me for life?” “I will.” Peyton answered without hesitation. From then on, wherever I was, Peyton would be there. Over eight years, he took two bullets for me, broke three ribs, fractured part of his skull, and nearly died several times. Everyone said I was the person on Peyton’s heart-touch her and die. From that moment on, I gave him everything I had, including my family’s company. Until Carmen appeared, and Peyton became like a different person. He forgot his promises and became Carmen’s protector. Whatever Carmen wanted, Peyton would provide. I told myself again and again that he was just after novelty, and once the novelty wore off, he’d come back. But only now did I understand-there was never any such thing as novelty. He simply didn’t love me anymore. Since Peyton’s heart had changed, I didn’t want this version of him either. Three days later, I was discharged and went home. Most traces of me in the living room had been erased. My usual books were replaced with manga, my favorite aromatherapy scent was changed, my beloved flowers swapped for red roses. Even my bedroom decor had been changed to the pink Carmen preferred. When Peyton came through the door pulling Carmen by the hand, carrying shopping bags, their interlaced fingers stabbed at my eyes. “Jenna, don’t misunderstand.” Sensing my gaze, Carmen hastily pulled her hand free. “It’s not what you think. Peyton said my body hasn’t recovered yet and I need quiet rest, so he insisted I stay in this sunny room.” She approached, trying to take my hand, but I stepped aside to avoid her. Carmen’s hand froze in mid-air, her expression even more pitiable. “Jenna, are you still angry at me about your mother? I’m sorry. I thought missing a few organs wouldn’t matter.” Watching her pretense and thinking of my mother’s tragic state, I couldn’t help wanting to kill her. “Get away from me!” I growled. At this, Carmen’s legs gave way and she actually knelt before me. “Jenna, why don’t you hit me? As long as it makes you feel better, even if you beat me to death, I’m willing.” Without hesitation, I stepped forward and slapped her face askew. “You think I wouldn’t dare?” The words had barely left my mouth when Peyton grabbed my hand before I could pull it back, the pain making me gasp. “Jenna Frost!” He called me by my full name, his voice cold as ice. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble? Do I need to lock you up too before you learn to behave?” Carmen stood behind him, covering her face and sobbing softly. “Peyton, don’t blame Jenna…” Peyton said coldly, “Carmen, hit her back!” Carmen didn’t react immediately, frozen in place covering her face, timidly shaking her head. “Peyton, it’s not necessary. I’m really fine…” “I said hit her back!” Peyton stared at me and repeated. “No one gets to hit my people without consequences.” He gripped my wrist tightly, ignoring the shock in my eyes. Encouraged by his gaze, Carmen raised her hand and slapped me back. “Again!” I didn’t expect Peyton to say this. A gleam of delight flashed in Carmen’s eyes as she gave me over a dozen slaps in succession. My face swelled instantly red, my mouth filling with the taste of blood. Peyton released my hand, turned to take Carmen’s hand and blew gently on it. “Now we’re even. Remember, don’t let there be a next time.” I stood there, the burning pain on my face not even one ten-thousandth of what I felt in my heart. My heart finally died in that moment.

Jenna Frost POV After they left, I went upstairs alone. The cold room caused me to develop a high fever that very night. When Peyton entered with a medical kit, I was curled up in bed, trembling continuously. Peyton reached out to touch my forehead-it was burning hot. “Get the car!” His brows furrowed sharply as he immediately lifted me in his arms and shouted downstairs. On the way to the hospital, I leaned against him in a daze, my consciousness blurred. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but I thought I saw a trace of unfamiliar panic on Peyton’s face. Looking at his expression, I suddenly remembered our wedding day. When my father placed my hand in Peyton’s and lifted my veil, the usually calm Peyton was suddenly so nervous he couldn’t speak, his eyes as flustered as they were now. Back then he looked so young, always earnestly taking care of everything for me, never letting me suffer the slightest grievance. But now, I hadn’t seen him look this way in so long. For a brief moment, I thought it would be nice if time could just stop at this moment. Unfortunately, it was all just my fantasy. Carmen’s call came when Peyton was in the hospital corridor. “The house is so dark. I’m scared. Can you come keep me company?” “Carmen, Jenna has a fever. I…” “I’m wearing that outfit you like today. Don’t you want to see?” Carmen interrupted him, her voice coquettish. Peyton’s footsteps stopped. He glanced at me sleeping in his arms, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Wait for me.” He handed me to a nurse who had rushed over, but as he turned to leave, I grabbed his wrist tightly. “Peyton, please… let me see Wade, just once… please.” After a few seconds of silence, Peyton softened his tone. “Tomorrow. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow.” Only then did my fingers go limp and release him, letting myself pass out with relief as the nurse wheeled me into the hospital room. Peyton stood in place for a moment, then turned and left quickly. Early morning. Fireworks suddenly burst into bloom outside the window, illuminating the dark night. I was startled awake and instinctively grabbed my phone. The screen lit up-the first item was a post Carmen had just made. In the photo, Carmen held a snow-white dog, smiling with crescent eyes. Peyton stood beside her, tall and upright, looking exactly like a loving couple. The caption read: “Thank you to someone for watching fireworks with me. Even the little one got a birthday present!” My gaze fixed on the dog’s neck. Around it was tied a dark blue knitted scarf, with fine stitching, but it had been crudely cut short and fashioned into a dog collar. I suddenly remembered that three years ago, I’d stayed up for three nights to knit Peyton a scarf. When Peyton saw the dense needle marks on my hands, he flew back from abroad that very night and stood in the snow, kissing my fingertips with heartache. “Frost, I don’t want you to suffer even the slightest harm because of me. It hurts my heart.” Those words still echoed in my ears, but now-how ironic. All my harm came from him. Even that scarf I’d made had now been given to Carmen’s dog. Fireworks continued exploding outside the window. I turned off my phone and lay down, letting tears continuously soak the pillow. Peyton, this is the last time I’ll cry for you.

Jenna Frost POV I don’t know when I fell asleep. When I woke, Peyton was leaning against the hospital room door, his eyes gazing out the window. “Get up when you’re awake.” His tone was still cold. I frowned, collected myself, got out of bed, and followed in his footsteps. I don’t like car air fresheners-they make me carsick. In the past, before I got in the car, Peyton would always have someone remove all the interior accessories to ensure the car was completely scent-free. But now, this familiar Bentley was filled with a sickeningly sweet fragrance. Even the cross I’d sought from afar for him had been replaced with cartoon toys. Everything in the car had been replaced, including me. I couldn’t hold back-my nose stung. I quickly turned my head, directing my gaze out the window so Peyton wouldn’t notice. The car entered a private villa courtyard. Before it had fully stopped, I heard piercing screams from inside. “Let go of me! You psycho! Help!” It was Carmen’s voice. Peyton’s expression changed. He shoved the car door open and rushed inside. I followed close behind. Inside, Wade’s eyes were red as he pinned Carmen to the ground, his hands around her throat. Carmen’s lips were turning purple, her feet kicking wildly. “Wade!” I cried out. Almost simultaneously, Peyton strode forward and kicked Wade hard in the waist. Wade let out a muffled groan and collapsed to the side, unconscious. Carmen immediately threw herself into Peyton’s arms, sobbing hysterically. “He tried to kill me. I was so scared…” Peyton held her, barking orders. “Someone, tie him up and teach him a lesson!” At this, two bodyguards immediately stepped forward, grabbing Wade by the feet to drag him away. “No!” I rushed over trying to stop them, but Peyton grabbed me with one hand. Seeing Wade about to be dragged away, my eyes caught sight of a fruit knife on the table. I broke free from Peyton and grabbed it, pressing it to my own throat. “Let him go!” I gripped the knife tightly, my voice trembling. “Peyton, have your people release him, or today you’ll be collecting my corpse!” “Stop!” He shouted. “Jenna Frost.” Peyton’s voice tightened involuntarily, carrying a trace of panic. “Think carefully. You really want to threaten me with yourself?” I glanced at my unconscious brother, then met Peyton’s gaze. “I’ll say it one more time, Peyton. Let my brother go.” Peyton’s eyes grew increasingly cold. “Jenna Frost, I told you. I hate most when people threaten me using you.” Before I could react, Peyton suddenly stepped forward and kicked, breaking Wade’s leg. Wade’s agonized screams echoed throughout the living room. Cold sweat poured down my body, tears flooding from my eyes. “I’ll say it one more time. Put down that knife. Every second you delay, I’ll break another of his legs. And if you dare die, I’ll make him wish he were dead!” I didn’t dare move. I knew Peyton meant what he said. After a long standoff, I released the knife and fell to my knees, grabbing Peyton’s pant leg in supplication. “Peyton, please, spare my brother. Please.” Only then did Peyton raise his hand, signaling the bodyguards to release their hold. Wade went limp on the floor, temporarily safe. “Jenna, wouldn’t it have been better to do this from the start?” Peyton crouched down, reaching out to grip my chin, forcing me to look up. “I told you, once this period passes, I’ll release him. Why do you insist on opposing me?” “Apologize to Carmen. Now.” I raised my eyes to meet his gaze. Peyton abruptly released my chin and turned away. I looked at my brother’s condition, froze for a moment, then stood and bowed deeply to Carmen. “I’m sorry.”

Jenna Frost POV I kept saying I’m sorry, each repetition louder than the last, but Carmen showed no sign of forgiveness. “Jenna, he nearly strangled me to death. A simple apology won’t cut it.” I looked up. “What do you want?” “How about…” Carmen’s eyes shifted as she brought over a chair and sat in front of me. “How about you kneel and apologize to me? How’s that?” My hands clenched into fists. When I released them, my face showed no more struggle. In my heart, compared to Wade, dignity meant nothing. Just as my knees were about to touch the ground, Peyton suddenly reached out and grabbed my arm. Before either person present could react, Peyton lifted me in his arms and headed upstairs without a word. I didn’t understand what madness had seized him. I struggled continuously, but he threw me onto the bed. His tall figure blocked all the light before my eyes. Peyton pressed down on me without question, roughly tearing at my clothes, his breathing harsh. I fought back with all my strength, my nails scratching bloody marks on his arm. “Peyton! You bastard! Let go of me!” But the more I resisted, the angrier he became, his restraining force growing stronger. He reached out to touch the red mark on my neck, his eyes gradually turning bloodshot. I let out a muffled groan as his sudden bite hurt me, but that sound seemed to act as an aphrodisiac, making Peyton even more heated. His hand moved downward, but as he lifted slightly, I drove my knee hard into him. He instinctively rolled away, but in the next second, saw me running toward the window ledge. “Don’t! Jenna!” Peyton’s roar came from the window, carrying unprecedented panic. When I woke again, I was in the same hospital as before. I moved slightly. Intense pain immediately shot through my entire body, making me gasp. Peyton kept watch nearby, dark circles under his eyes. Seeing me wake, he immediately grabbed my hand, his voice hoarse. “You’re awake? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” I closed my eyes, not wanting to see him. Peyton was about to say something when his phone suddenly rang. He glanced at it, his brow furrowing as he stood and left the room to take the call. The next second, Carmen pushed through the door. Looking at my miserable state, she laughed softly. “You didn’t even die falling from the fourth floor. You’re really lucky.” I opened my eyes, looking at her and smiling back. “Carmen, do you know why Peyton won’t divorce me?” Carmen rolled her eyes at me. “Isn’t it because you’re clinging to him like a ghost who won’t let go?” “You’re wrong.” I shook my head. “It’s because as long as he doesn’t divorce me, he gets the forty percent stake I hold. So as long as I’m alive, you’ll never be able to take my position.” “Yesterday he could have let me die, but he still saved me. Why do you think that is?” Carmen frowned, a flash of doubt crossing her eyes. I propped myself up into a sitting position. “Because he owes me his life-I saved him. If I die, he can’t explain it. As long as he doesn’t sign the divorce papers, I’ll forever be his legal wife. And you’re just a mistress.” Carmen’s face gradually turned ashen. Seeing this, I continued dangling the bait. “Help me get the divorce agreement, and I’ll transfer my shares to you. I’ll take my brother and leave forever. With those shares, not only can you marry Peyton immediately, you can become a company director. How about it?” Carmen’s eyes flickered, clearly tempted, but she wasn’t stupid. “Why should I trust you?” “You don’t have to.” I wasn’t anxious at all, closing my eyes. “We’ll just keep dragging this out. You can gamble on whether he’ll give up my shares to marry you first, or lose interest in you and come back to his family first.” Carmen fell silent. “Fine.” Carmen lowered her voice. “I’ll find a way to get my hands on the divorce agreement.” “I hope you keep your promise, or I’ll make you wish you were dead!” I opened my eyes, looking at her extended hand and grasping it. “Happy cooperation.”

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